


Paint and Metal and Everything in Between

by Waffle-o (XylB)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, FAHC, GTA Universe, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-18 11:29:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/Waffle-o
Summary: It starts with a high-speed car chase and never really goes down from there.(Also known as yet another FAHC AU no one asked for.)





	1. Chapter 1

Jeremy's running down backstreet alleys with Michael, a cash-heavy duffle slung over his back and his legs protesting with every corner – Michael's glancing back at him and laughing gleefully and the sirens only get louder, ringing off of the walls of the narrow alleyways.

“What's the plan?!” Jeremy shouts, smiling despite the fact that the cops already pinned down Michael's escape car and now they're running for their lives in the worst part of Los Santos.

“Don't worry, I called backup!” Michael yells, and Jeremy wonders what it'll be _now_. He hasn't spent much time with the FAHC yet but he's already been treated to one of Gavin's dizzying chopper rides. He hopes it's not that, but some part of him has already resigned itself to climbing a hook and rope.

They burst out into an open street and Jeremy immediately scans for cops – he flinches at the car that squeals around the corner, low-riding and black and zooming up to them before braking sharply. Michael grins and yanks open the back door, squeezing in with duffle and all and ushering Jeremy in as the engine revs and the car speeds off again, the door slamming shut with the force and _barely_ missing Jeremy's fingers.

Lights flash behind them and Michael laughs loudly as he retrieves an SMG from his footwell – Jeremy kicks his duffle down and looks up into the rearview mirror to see – oh _shit_ – the _Vagabond_ staring back at him, maskless and painted ghoulishly, grinning almost manically as he swerves around another corner.

“Hey!” The Vagabond says, meeting Jeremy's eyes in the mirror.

“Lil J, this is V, V, Lil J,” Michael says before smashing out a window with the butt of the SMG, twisting to shoot behind them.

“Aw, you didn't have to break it,” the Vagabond complains, accelerating through a red light and flipping off the honking horns.

“This was our backup?!” Jeremy shouts, the new speed _slamming_ him against the seat and forcing him to scrabble wildly for a grip. He's never really _met_ the Vagabond, let alone _talked_ to him – the Vagabond was busy on a job when Jeremy joined, and he supposes this is now their first official meeting and boy _what_ a fucking first meeting.

“It's the best backup!” Michael yells back, crouching into the car to reload.

“Gun's under your feet!” The Vagabond calls, spinning the car into a sharp U-turn that makes Jeremy's head whirl but he gropes underneath for the gun anyway, pulling out a heavy carbine and fumbling for the extra clips sliding around beside it.

As he straightens again the back window shatters, glass spraying all over the inside of the car; Michael just offers Jeremy a wild grin and turns to shoot out the back. Jeremy snaps back the slide and twists to do the same, aiming for wheels and windshields as the Vagabond races down one-way streets the wrong way, nearly sending them flying when he zooms over speed bumps. Bullets hail over the roof of the car and bounce off harmlessly – Jeremy clicks in a new clip and empties it into a cop car engine as they drive into a tunnel. The car explodes in a thunderous _crash boom_ and he sees cops diving out of it as it flips and blocks the path of its friends.

“Nice one!” Michael yells, ducking back down to grab grenades from fucking _somewhere_ , Jeremy doesn't know, he's dizzy and they're going _really_ fucking fast and next thing he knows they're on a bridge dashing around civilian traffic.

A helicopter whirs above them and starts shooting – Michael and Jeremy both tuck back in, Jeremy taking the moment to gulp in huge breaths while the Vagabond navigates them off the bridge and into shitty back roads.

“Get the chopper!” The Vagabond shouts, and Michael and Jeremy pop out to do just that, pummelling it with bullets until they hit a blade and it starts going down. Parachutes drop from it and Michael shoots those, too, laughing when they rip and start twirling in sharp circles.

The sirens fade a little, the cops seeming to have given up on them, and the Vagabond slows down to only twenty above the speed limit, driving out of the shitty bit onto the coastside motorway, slotting in behind a fast white Infernus.

“We're clear,” Michael says, slumping back in his seat and returning the grenades back into the bag they came out of. Jeremy sighs and drops his carbine on his lap to brush glass off of his arms and clothes.

Michael reaches over to slap his arm and gives him a wide grin while fist-bumping him – Jeremy laughs a little hysterically and glances up at the mirror to see the Vagabond's eyes on him.

“How much'd you get?” The Vagabond asks, glancing over to Michael.

“Aw man, at least fifty,” Michael says, his gaze dropping to the bags.

“Fifty G?” The Vagabond raises an eyebrow and overtakes the Infernus. “That's pretty good.”

“Yeah, pretty good take,” Michael agrees, “wouldn't you say, Lil J?”

“What? Oh, yeah,” Jeremy pants, his hands trembling a little from adrenaline.

“I think you wore him out,” Michael teases, leaning forward.

“What a shame,” the Vagabond replies with a smirk, lifting his eyes to Jeremy in the mirror.

“Fuck you,” Jeremy says, grinning at their laughter. “I'm perfectly fine.”

“Sure,” Michael says. “Where we goin', V?”

“Well, Hookies is up here,” the Vagabond says, flicking on his headlights as the sky darkens around them. “Heard they got new owners. Cleaned the place up a bit. Wanna check it out?”

“Hell yeah. Lil J, you in?”

“Can I even be out?”

Michael and the Vagabond simply laugh again.

\-- 

It turns out Hookies is a _great_ place now, and it's got these fucking amazing little vodka shots that Jeremy's had _way_ too many of and a home-brewed moonshine that's fucking _delicious_ as _dicks_.

They've claimed a table outside, plopping down with their cold drinks and numerous glasses and talking shit in the stagnant Los Santos heat, their loud arguments lost in the din of the outdoor crowd. Michael often steals the Vagabond's Diet Coke for a chaser – _V doesn't drink, that's why it's great to go out with him_ , Michael had slurred, looping an arm around Jeremy's shoulders, _designated driver_ , and the Vagabond had merely cocked an eyebrow and replied, _who said I'm taking you home?_ \- and even with the paint on he's still a friendly face, thumping Jeremy on the back when he chokes and sliding napkins over to Michael when he spills moonshine on the table.

It's a fucking _great_ time and Jeremy's drunk enough the lights are starting to blur, and when Michael finishes his latest bottle of moonshine the Vagabond decides to usher them out. He holds tight to Jeremy's arm and Michael stumbles along beside them, still half draped over Jeremy and chattering about something to do with the stars and Jeremy laughs at his slurred insults, the Vagabond's good-natured chuckle echoing quietly beside him.

“Oh god, please – please don't drive as fast as you did before,” Jeremy asks when the Vagabond's bundling them into the car, Michael already sprawled in the backseat and Jeremy about to lift a leg to get in.

“Don't worry, I won't,” the Vagabond says with an amused quirk of his lips. “I don't want my seats stained.”

“Thanks man,” Jeremy slurs, patting the Vagabond on the chest before getting in – the door shuts gently behind him and he's starting up another conversation with Michael as the Vagabond slides into the driver's seat and turns on the engine.

True to his word, the Vagabond drives at the speed limit, keeping his corners smooth and his lane changing seamless, and Jeremy internally thanks him as he presses his cheek to the cool glass, idly watching his breath steam up against it.

\-- 

“I bet we could, y'know, mould it around his face,” Gavin says, gesturing vaguely to his own face as Michael stares at him.

“Sure man,” Michael says with a laugh, shaking his head. “I mean, if he's up for it.”

“What – What are we doin', again?” Jeremy asks, resting his elbows on his knees to lean forward and look around Michael to Gavin.

“Geoff's got a bunch of silly string shit,” Gavin says, “and it – it hardens after a while, don't it? So I figure we could make a – a mould of your face.”

“Why me?” Jeremy asks.

“'Cause you're new,” Gavin says with a shrug. Michael cackles and presses his hand to his chest.

“Yeah, 'cause you're _new_ ,” he giggles, mocking Gavin, “it's an induction ritual.”

“An in-in what what? Induction?” Jeremy asks – okay, he's had a little moonshine, he's not exactly straight-faced sober right now. Some words are hard. Michael breaks into fresh giggles – he's been hitting the moonshine, too, and Gavin laughs loudly.

“Can you _imagine_ if we got Ry to do that?” He exclaims, laughing again at the thought.

“Ry?” Jeremy asks, puzzled. “Who's Ry?”

“Ryan,” Gavin says, and furrows his brow. “V.”

“Shut up,” Michael mutters, slapping Gavin's arm. “He doesn't know his name yet.”

“It's okay, I won't – I won't tell 'im,” Jeremy promises, patting Michael's knee. “It's our secret.”

“Yeah, okay, our secret,” Michael says with a slight giggle, and then they get back to the silly string matter.

\-- 

Jeremy's walking around with straws in his mouth and disgusting rubber on his face, holding his hands out in front of him like Marco Polo with Michael guiding him, both him and Gavin snickering behind him.

“Here, stay a second,” Michael says, leaving him somewhere as his hands slip away. Jeremy waits a few minutes and then there's a noise beside him and he whirls around, his arms knocking solidly into someone's ribs and he stumbles back, grunting through the straws.

He nearly trips over his own feet but a hand lands on his lower back, urging him back upright and Jeremy sighs in relief. The hand doesn't leave, warm and broad against his spine, and Jeremy ignores the drunken shiver that runs up him.

“What're you up to?” Someone asks – the Vagabond, Jeremy realises after a moment, definitely a smile in his voice. He tries to speak through the straws and fails, but the Vagabond laughs anyway.

“Michael and Gavin?” He asks, and Jeremy nods. The Vagabond hums in acknowledgement and Jeremy tries to ask another question through the plastic. Thankfully, the Vagabond seems to understand him.

“Where are you? You're in the kitchen,” the Vagabond – _Ryan_ , Jeremy remembers suddenly, his name is _Ryan_ – says. “Right in front of the fridge, actually.”

Jeremy makes a relieved noise and Ryan chuckles again, curling more of his arm around Jeremy's back to hold him steady and that's absolutely not why Jeremy's suddenly sweating under his rubbery mask.

He hears Michael and Gavin returning, laughing madly about something, and Ryan gives him over to Michael's hands. Jeremy's a little disappointed when Ryan's fingers leave but doesn't let it show, instead turning towards Gavin's voice – he smacks him in the face with the straws by the sound of it and the rest of them break into a chorus of laughter.

“Jeremy!” Gavin exclaims, batting lightly at the straws. Jeremy snorts and the sound sends Michael into more cackling, his hands squeezing Jeremy's waist.

“Don't hurt him too much,” Ryan says. “We still need him.”

“We'll try,” Michael says, and starts to steer Jeremy in another direction. “I can't promise for Gavin, though!”

“Michael!”

\-- 

Jeremy ends up hunkered down in a warehouse with Ryan, both of them sitting on the floor leaning up against crates as the comms crackle in their ears. There's a deal going down in the next building over, and they're simply there as backup in case it screws up, but it seems to be going smoothly so far.

Ryan idles plays with the slide of his pistol, snapping it back and running his hand over the barrel in a very distracting manner. Jeremy keeps glancing over at him, only a couple metres away, doused in menacing shadow.

“I thought you always wore a mask,” Jeremy says. Ryan 'hm?'s and looks up at him.

“Police footage. You're always wearing the mask,” Jeremy explains, and Ryan glances back down at his pistol.

“I wear it,” he says.

“Yeah, but, like, I thought you wore it _all_ the time.”

Ryan shrugs and brings a knee up to rest his elbow on it, letting the pistol lay on his thigh.

“The paint's easier,” he says. “Doesn't get as hot.”

“I thought you were famous,” Jeremy says. “Aren't you, like, wanted in five states?”

“Seven,” Ryan corrects, tossing the pistol up and flipping it cleanly in mid-air. “And not anymore. Gavin cleared my rap sheets.”

“Huh.” Jeremy leans his head back against the crate and looks up at the dusty rafters. “Why doesn't he do that for all of us?”

“We keep getting new ones,” Ryan replies. “No point in wiping them all the time.”

“But you're special?” Jeremy teases.

Ryan glances at him and then back to the pistol. He doesn't answer, and Jeremy lets the subject drop. He's sure Ryan has a good reason.

\-- 

“Hey, V, pass the charges,” Jeremy says, holding out a hand and waiting for something to drop into it while he wires up C4 with the other. Ryan hesitates and Jeremy glances up, making grabby fingers with his hand.

“V?” He asks, and Ryan meets his eyes, his paint especially eerie in the faint yellow lighting of the docks.

“Ryan,” he says, and Jeremy pretends not to understand why he's saying that.

“Call me Ryan,” Ryan continues, carefully pressing a detonation charge into Jeremy's hand.

“Okay. Ryan,” Jeremy says, testing the name out on his tongue and grinning at the feel of it. Ryan smiles back a touch shyly and Jeremy looks away before he can start to flush.

Twenty minutes later, the drug ship goes up in a big, beautiful explosion and Jeremy can't help but notice how nice the reflection looks in Ryan's eyes, and then the nervous twitch of Ryan's lips when he glances down at Jeremy. The fire casts dark shadows under his eyes and across his cheeks but Jeremy can’t tear his gaze away from his bright, piercing eyes.

Ryan’s mouth parts ever-so-slightly. Jeremy swallows.

Jeremy _just_ shifts his weight to step closer when sirens rise from the city and snap the moment in two, reminding them to get the  _fuck_ out of there. 

\-- 

Ryan's arm curls around Jeremy's shoulder moments before he slams them to the floor, half-covering Jeremy's body with his own as shooting breaks out across the bar – opposite them Jack grabs a handful of Gavin's shirt and hauls him down to the floor with her and they all cower while bullets tear through the wooden counter.

For once it's a shootout that's nothing to do with them, but it would still probably be pretty fucking wise for them to scram.

“Fire door,” Ryan whispers into Jeremy's ear, his chest pressed to Jeremy's shoulder blades. Jeremy nods and looks up at Gavin, who jerks his head towards the fire exit as well and together they all make a silent agreement to head for it. Ryan slides his hand down the back of Jeremy's jeans and pulls out his gun – Jeremy would complain but the brush of Ryan's knuckles against his lower back makes him shudder and Ryan _definitely_ felt that.

Jack takes out her own gun and nods at Ryan and suddenly Ryan's hauling Jeremy up by the back of his collar as Jack does the same with Gavin, pushing them both in the direction of the fire exit as they stand and shoot back.

Jeremy kicks open the door and Gavin spills out behind him, helping him hold it open as Jack and Ryan twist to sprint out, bullets flying over their heads. They stumble into the sand and the door shuts heavy behind them, the small glass window shattering in a shower of shards.

Gavin pulls on Jeremy's sleeve and Jeremy follows him down to the shore, all four of them running along the waves – behind them Jack and Ryan laugh breathlessly about something, and when Jeremy glances back he sees a smear of blood on Ryan's palm and more on the hem of Jack's shorts, but neither of them seems seriously hurt.

They all burst into the beach car park and Jack immediately leads them to the motorbike bay, shooting off the metal chain locking a bike to a stand and hotwiring it as Jeremy does the same with another.

A cop car races by on the motorway and on instinct Jeremy ducks, but then he realises it's going for the bar, not them, and he quickly swings a leg over the bike and starts it up. Jack does the same and beyond her Gavin straddles another bike, saluting them with two fingers before revving up and swerving away.

“I'll go make sure he doesn't crash,” Jack says with a roll of her eyes, hunching over and gunning her engine to catch up to Gavin.

Just as Jeremy gets the bike in gear Ryan gets on behind him, pressed up hot to his back with his chin on Jeremy's shoulder as he tucks the gun back into Jeremy's jeans. His fingers linger around Jeremy's lower back again and he chuckles quietly at Jeremy's sharp inhale.

“Your place?” He asks, placing his hands on Jeremy's hips and squeezing slowly. Jeremy shivers at the low, rumbling pitch of Ryan's voice, deep and intimate against the sensitive skin of his ear.

Jeremy nods and Ryan secures himself better to Jeremy's body as Jeremy backs out, straightening the bike out before driving up to join the motorway. Ryan noses at the back of his head and Jeremy suddenly accelerates, revving up the engine and zooming onto the road amongst the streaks of car headlights. Ryan laughs breathlessly, delightedly behind him and Jeremy grins to himself.

\-- 

They barely manage to get their shoes off before Ryan's manhandling Jeremy to the sofa, sitting him firmly down and sinking to his knees between Jeremy's spread legs. He smirks and Jeremy groans, leaning in for a hard kiss that Ryan gives easily, biting at Jeremy's lower lip and smudging bitter paint over Jeremy's tongue.

Ryan breaks away and grins as he runs his hands up Jeremy's thighs, shouldering between them to dip down and press his nose and mouth to Jeremy's rapidly forming erection and _god_ Jeremy only just resists the urge to buck up into his face. He groans and gently threads a hand into Ryan's hair – with Ryan's nod as permission Jeremy curls his fingers to grip, not pulling or pushing but definitely holding on.

The white light of the living room glints in Ryan's eyes as he backs away to unzip Jeremy, pushing open his fly and tugging him out of his briefs, slowly dragging his hand up and down with his eyes glued to Jeremy's face. Jeremy groans and twitches involuntarily in Ryan's hand, sitting up a little more to see better as Ryan flicks his thumb over the slit.

Ryan merely presses the leaking head to his lips with a smile, catching Jeremy's eyes before he opens his mouth and starts to sink down, jaw dropping open to accommodate the head. Jeremy moans and tightens his grip in Ryan's hair, panting harshly while Ryan works more into his mouth, slowly pulling up to reveal the spit-slicked length and sweep his tongue over the sensitive vein underneath. He wraps his hand more firmly around Jeremy's base and licks all the way back up to the head before going down on him again, lips stretched wide around the girth.

Jeremy tilts his head back against the sofa as Ryan blows him, sinking down far enough to meet his fingers and humming on the slide up. With an effort, Jeremy straightens his neck again to watch, grunting encouragingly when Ryan starts bobbing, eyes closing and throat relaxing every time Jeremy pushes up against it.

“God, _fuck_ , Ryan, your _mouth_ ,” Jeremy gasps, experimentally pulling on Ryan's hair. It earns him a pleased moan that shudders all through Jeremy and makes his toes curl in the carpet. There's still adrenaline pumping lazily through his veins, making everything more sensitive and _tingly_ and Ryan's mouth is hot and _wet_ around him, spit leaking down to dribble over his fingers and out of the corners of his mouth.

Ryan pulls off for a breather and glances up at Jeremy while he pants, jerking him slowly and grinning at Jeremy's choked groan. He sinks back down _easily_ , and this time when Jeremy nudges at his throat he just rises up on his knees and angles a little and then Jeremy's _sliding into_ his throat, the sensation tearing a moan out of him. Ryan hums again and resumes his bobbing, this time letting Jeremy slip into his throat on every thrust and _god_ , Jeremy's not going to fucking _make it_. Ryan's other hand drops from Jeremy's thigh and Jeremy leans forward a little to see it slip into Ryan's _own_ jeans and that's a whole other level of hot Jeremy wasn't prepared for and he has to slump back into the cushions to roll his hips up.

He can't see Ryan's crotch from here but just the knowledge that's he jerking himself off _while_ blowing Jeremy is insanely arousing and Jeremy twitches in his hot throat, pulls him up a little roughly and drags him back down – Ryan lets him, goes a bit more slack so Jeremy can slowly fuck his mouth and his breath huffs out hard over Jeremy's crotch, his eyes fluttering open and locking onto Jeremy's.

Jeremy pushes into his throat again and Ryan's eyes water, shutting again as he shudders and moans thickly around Jeremy's cock. Ryan sucks harder, now, tracing up over the underside with his tongue and sealing his lips more firmly around the shaft, swallowing when Jeremy's in his throat and drooling otherwise, spit dripping down to his chin.

“Ryan, I'm – fuck, I'm close,” Jeremy pants, urgently tugging at Ryan's hair but Ryan stays down and blinks up at him and Jeremy's gone, groaning as he comes straight into Ryan's mouth. His eyes slam shut and he leans back into the sofa as he shudders, gasping out Ryan's name all the while. And Ryan fucking _swallows_ , too, sucks noisily to do so and Jeremy's long finished when Ryan finally pulls off, muffling a moan against the slick head of Jeremy's dick and shuddering again.

“Fuck, let me – let me,” Jeremy babbles, grasping for Ryan's shoulders and leaning forward to reach down, but Ryan's already pushing his hands away, wiping his mouth and chin on his shirt and leaning up to kiss Jeremy.

“Wanna – Wanna get you off, too,” Jeremy murmurs, reaching down again but Ryan pushes him firmly back, hands on Jeremy's hips.

“Don't worry about it,” he says, and Jeremy notes that his fingers – the ones that weren't on Jeremy - are wet, shiny and slick in the light of the living room. And Ryan's flushed under him, a new laziness to his kissing and Jeremy decides to drop the matter – if Ryan doesn't want him to touch him, he won't. Although he feels a little bad about not reciprocating, and kisses him all the deeper to try and make up for it.

And after their breathing evens out, after Ryan's bitten Jeremy's lower lip to swollen and kissed him to boneless, he pulls away, spit-slick lips still brushing against Jeremy's. The angle Jeremy’s leaning at is terrible for his back but he can't really bring himself to care right now.

“Can I use your shower?” Ryan asks, his voice hoarse and raspy and Jeremy flushes hot all over. “Still got the bar on me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeremy says, nodding. Ryan grins and presses another wet kiss to his mouth before backing away and pushing himself up to standing with a hand on Jeremy's knee.

“You can stay over, if you want,” Jeremy blurts out, and Ryan's eyes drop away, hesitant.

“Not – we don't – I have a guest bedroom,” Jeremy adds. “You can sleep here if – if it's too much bother to go back home.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ryan says, _agrees_ with a small, pleased smile.

\-- 

In the morning Ryan leaves him a plate of cooked breakfast and a slip of paper with a number on it – not his crew phone number, it must be his _personal_ number – and Jeremy grins stupidly to himself and laughs even though there's no one there to hear him.

\-- 

“No, use Michael's car!”

“Why mine?! You'll destroy it!”

“No I won't, boi, you can trust me!”

“Gavin you crashed my Bati _yesterday_.”

“No I didn't, Jack, that truck drove into _me_.”

“Yeah, because you were going sixty the _wrong way_ down a one-way street.”

“Shut up, Ryan. I still say we use Michael's car.”

The crew collapses into bickering – and mostly ganging up on Gavin – and Jeremy takes a long, _long_ drink of Red Bull while Geoff very clearly and very loudly lays out all of Gavin's recent vehicle offences, from the trashed skateboard to the dented pickup. Ryan nudges Jeremy's arm and offers him a croissant with a raised eyebrow – Jeremy gladly takes it and stuff the entire warm pastry into his mouth to make Ryan laugh.

“Use Michael's!”

“Use your own!”

“...I can't.”

“Why?”

“...it's in the shop.”

“Gavin!”

The argument devolves into petty insults and laughter and Jeremy even joins in, teaming up with Geoff and then promptly being accused by Gavin _and_ Michael of being a complete kissass. An accusation he merely waves off with a flap of his hand and an imperious frown.

Beside him, Ryan steals two more doughnuts from the box and starts munching on them, crumbs sticking around his mouth. The paint smudges when he wipes them off but Jeremy's a little transfixed at what the fuck he just witnessed. Ryan winks at him and offers a doughnut but Jeremy declines. Ryan shrugs and takes a bite of it himself, downing it with his soda.

Jeremy glances between the quarrelling crew and to Ryan and thinks back to what statement sparked this entire debate. Very specifically, _whose_ statement.

 _Yeah, we can use Gavin's car for that_.

“You sneaky fuck,” he hisses, and no one hears him but Ryan, who grins smugly and stuffs more pastry into his mouth. He's polished off about seven doughnuts since he set off the crew – the _sneaky fuck_ , this was his entire _plan_. He's turned the crew on themselves to steal the fucking _pastry box_.

Jeremy's a little impressed at the cat-burglary - as Ryan would say - and a lot horrified at how much sugar Ryan's shovelling into his mouth.

Michael _really_ wasn't fucking lying when he said Ryan was a fucking  _bottomless pit_.

\-- 

Jeremy scratches his chin as he looks in his fridge, wondering what the fuck to cook tonight. He hasn't got much – he should really go grocery shopping, but a Friday night isn't really the time and he doesn't want to deal with the traffic if he can wait until tomorrow.

He pulls out a bowl of peppers he cut up earlier this week and sets them on the counter, grabs the bag of potatoes in the fridge. Looks like it's salad tonight, made of whatever shit Jeremy's got left in his fridge before it goes bad.

There's a knock on his door shortly after he closes the fridge, while he's washing his hands. He dries them on the towel and doesn't bother rolling down his sleeves down before walking over to get the door, grabbing a pistol on the way and tucking it into the back of his jeans.

He opens the door to reveal Ryan, no face paint and no blood-stained clothes, and Jeremy takes a moment to absorb him, from the nice jeans to the dark purple shirt that stretches over his shoulders to the smart silver watch on his left wrist – Jeremy recognises that from the jewellery store they robbed last week.

“Hey,” Jeremy says, stepping back a little to invite Ryan in. Instead of coming in, Ryan just steps up and leans against the doorframe, raking his eyes over Jeremy, who suddenly feels a little underdressed in baggy jeans and a faded Henley.

“Hey,” Ryan replies, crossing his arms over his chest. Jeremy has to force himself not to stare at all the attractive skin his rolled-up sleeves reveal. “You busy?”

“Busy doin' nothing,” Jeremy says. “Why?”

Ryan taps his fingers against his elbow and his eyes roam over Jeremy’s hallway before they snap back to him.

“Do you want to go for dinner?” He asks, blurted out with a rush of breath.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah. Like – a date,” Ryan says, quieter this time, and Jeremy flounders for his composure. Ryan's smile falters and Jeremy starts nodding, unable to find the words quite yet but he definitely wants to say yes – he just doesn't want to sound like a total dork while doing so.

“I'd love to,” he settles on, grinning wide when Ryan's face lights up. “Are you – now?”

“Well, yeah,” Ryan says with a shrug. “Don't – Don't have to do it now, but - “

“No, no, now is fine,” Jeremy says, steps back more to invite Ryan in with a gesture. “Let me get changed?”

Ryan nods and lets Jeremy lead him to the sofa to wait – the same sofa he blew Jeremy on not four weeks ago, and the memory burns hot in Jeremy's mind. Since then they haven't done anything else, but they've started texting on a near daily basis, a little flirting but mostly just friendly chatting, and in real life there's been nothing more than faintly suggestive touches or glances. It's been nice, not stumbling headfirst into each other, as much as Jeremy is all for that method when it comes to Ryan, but he also likes being friends with the guy, as close to him as he is to Michael and Gavin now.

Jeremy opens his closet and almost immediately groans because he has _nothing_ that would look good on him as Ryan's clothes do on _him_. Fuck Ryan and his stunning good looks. And body. And basically everything.

He guesses that Ryan's going for a slightly fancier place, picks out his nicest jeans and a plain blue button-down, shrugs a thin leather jacket on over it because that's how fancy he can get with what he has – he almost regrets not owning a suit, and then swiftly remembers he hates suits and plucks his sunglasses off the table even though it's night.

When he emerges into the living room, Ryan's on his phone, tapping away at something on it and pulling a little at his collar – Jeremy makes his footsteps louder and Ryan looks up, gasps softly at what he sees.

“You look – great,” he says, standing up and pocketing his phone in one move.

“Shut up, just 'cause you look like a GQ model,” Jeremy mumbles, smiling anyway as he shoves on his boots. Ryan flushes faintly at the compliment and Jeremy quickly goes to wash his hands.

“I still think you look amazing,” Ryan says when Jeremy returns to his side. Jeremy laughs and Ryan leans down to kiss him, his fingers curling around Jeremy's leather-clad shoulder and a restrained eagerness to his movements. Jeremy sighs and rests a hand on Ryan's hip, places the other over Ryan's scruffy jaw to tilt him a little.

“Wanted to do that for weeks,” Ryan says when he pulls away, panting quietly and his cheeks tinged pink.

“Well, why didn't you?” Jeremy asks, as if he hasn't had the same impulse and probably the same reason for repressing it.

“I don't think Geoff would take kindly to me interrupting meetings like that,” Ryan whispers, pressing another kiss to Jeremy's open mouth.

“Eh, fuck Geoff,” Jeremy says, and their laughter breaks them apart.

“Come on, I've got reservations,” Ryan says, pulling away and linking a hand with Jeremy's to lead him out. Jeremy revels in the thrill that sends up him and squeezes Ryan's hand simply because he _can_. Ryan squeezes back and Jeremy grins.

\-- 

The restaurant is on Vespucci and their table is a floor above ground – Ryan deals with the talking while Jeremy admires the grand chandelier sparkling over the tables. Moments later he's whisked away, guided gently to the stairs by Ryan's hand on his back as they follow the waitress to the balcony.

There's heat lamps posted among the tables, paired with bright lights that glitter and glint off of jewellery and silverware. The clinking of champagne glasses accompanies the soft chattering around them, chimes of laughter mixed in with the sound.

Their table is tucked into the corner of the balcony, a clean white tablecloth draped over it with a delicate vase of pink flowers and a small candle in the middle. The waitress seats them with the menus and leaves them to decide with a polite smile.

“This place is fucking fancy,” Jeremy whispers, glancing up at Ryan. Ryan moves the flowers and the candle to the side so they can see each other, leaning in on his elbows as he peruses the menu.

“It also has the best burgers this side of the tracks,” Ryan murmurs, looking up at Jeremy. “We can leave if you want.”

“No – _no_ , Ryan, I don't want to leave.” Jeremy hesitantly reaches out to place his hand on Ryan's and Ryan smiles, flips his hand to hold Jeremy's. “Best burgers?”

“That being said,” Ryan says, idly flipping the menu. “The desserts leave something to be desired.”

“We're on Seventh, right?” Jeremy asks. Ryan nods. “I know a gelato place nearby, we can get something there.”

Ryan smiles, squeezes his hand, and Jeremy’s heartbeat skips.


	2. Chapter 2

Geoff yanks Jeremy down by the collar and presses his finger to his lips when Jeremy opens his mouth to complain – Jeremy shuts his mouth and frowns as Geoff starts to speak.

“Shh,” Geoff hisses, eyes darting around as he listens for something. He points up and whispers, with wide eyes, “They're in the ceiling.”

Jeremy scoffs and looks up – and sees Michael grinning down at him from a rafter, cocking his gun and the moment he shoots Geoff's _scrambling_ to move, Jeremy with him as he tries to shoot back in Michael's general direction. The beam blocks most of his hits, his darts bouncing harmlessly off the wood while Geoff leads him to new cover, clumsily aiming back at Michael on the way.

Jeremy catches a flash of orange and yellow in the corner of his eye and whips around to face Jack, who just stares them down with a cool smirk and when Jeremy hears Ryan's quiet laughter behind them he knows they're fucked.

The makeshift battlefield explodes a moment later, Geoff and Jeremy sprinting out of the way as Jack and Ryan spray them with darts – where the fuck were _those_ guns hiding? – and Jeremy twists to shoot Gavin out of the ceiling – Gavin yelps when he's hit in the neck and flops dramatically on the rafter while reaching for Michael, who shouts a war cry and starts mercilessly aiming at Jeremy, peppering the ground around him.

Jeremy takes cover behind a pillar and sees Geoff go down in a brutal slew of darts, shrieking and cursing when Jack aims for his crotch until he finally collapses on the ground, groaning loudly and continuously.

Jeremy reloads his little rifle thing and pulls out his secondary pistol – glad he didn't give that to Geoff – while Ryan targets Michael with his machine gun, everyone yelling and shouting and fighting. Darts bounce off of the concrete Jeremy steps out of his hiding place and Jack swivels to face him but he hits her in the chest with one solid shot, laughing as she clutches her chest and falls to her knees, croaking out Ryan's name through giggles before she slumps.

Geoff's still groaning.

Michael yelps and starts wiggling away from his rafter, shooting and missing and swearing at Ryan while he snatches Gavin's gun to use that, too. An ammo pack drops from the ceiling and Jeremy creeps closer, sticking to the shadows in the hopes that no one sees him.

Geoff's groan peters off and he sucks in a huge breath to start all over again – Ryan shoots him in the throat and that finally silences him.

With his turn, Ryan spies Jeremy, his head snapping up and eyes narrowing – Jeremy panics and starts _blasting_ in his direction and Ryan easily dodges it, glancing up at Michael who then nails Jeremy in the shoulder and then the chest and Jeremy slumps against the wall, dramatically clawing at it as he sinks to the floor, staring at Ryan.

Ryan laughs and gets shot in the back and everything goes slack as he falls – right on top of Geoff, it turns out, Geoff's startled yelp echoing around the empty warehouse.

Silence descends over the battlefield.

Quiet giggling breaks it and Michael's gun clicks empty before he starts cheering loudly from the ceiling, whooping and hollering up a storm as he shoots victory darts from the pistol into the floor.

“I fucking won, bitches!” He yells, dropping one of his guns to the ground – it clatters noisily against the concrete and Jeremy jumps at the sound. “I'm the only _goddamn_ one in the _goddamn_ crew!”

They all slowly come back to life with varying degrees of laughter, Jeremy pushing himself up to standing and Jack brushing herself off as Michael and Gavin make their way down to the ground, shimmying down beams and poles and yelping as they catch each other. Geoff tries to get up but Ryan stays raggedy-ann, flopping over onto his back and his head lolling to the side as his tongue sticks out. Geoff wheezes from the new pressure, now with Ryan lying right over his chest, and Jeremy goes over to pull Ryan up, grunting with the effort of lifting a fully grown, _completely limp_ man. Ryan chuckles and drags his feet under him, using Jeremy's shoulder to help steady himself as Jack stands over Geoff, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

“Give my outline – a giant dick,” Geoff wheezes, stretching a hand out to his side. “Make it big and hard, Jack, big and hard.”

“Sure,” Jack laughs, finally reaching down to help him up.

Ryan rests his arm on Jeremy's shoulders and looks around at the mess of Nerf darts littering the ground like an orange carpet.

“Man, clean up in aisle nine,” Michael pants as he comes up on the other side of Jeremy, rubbing a hand over his ribs. “Fuck, that beam was digging into me the whole time.”

Gavin lifts his unused pistol and playfully shoots both Ryan and Jeremy in the chest, giggling when Ryan claps a hand over his heart and staggers back, unfortunately taking Jeremy with him a few stumbling steps.

“You wound me, Gavin,” he rasps, grinning wide as he straightens again.

And lifts his other hand.

And shoots Gavin in the dick with about five bullets – Gavin shouts and hides behind Michael, who pushes him away and then Gavin's running and Ryan's arm slips away from Jeremy as he gives chase, ditching the heavy machine gun to drag out a Nerf pistol and attack with that instead.

\-- 

Jeremy counts out five big ones and slams them on the table next to Jack's bet, cocking an eyebrow at her. She just smiles, sharp and knowing, and Michael 'ooh's loudly behind them.

“Winner gets all?” Jack asks.

“Winner gets double,” Jeremy replies, and there's a chorus of hollering from Michael and Gavin.

“Deal,” Jack says, politely extending her hand. Jeremy glances at Geoff and Ryan behind her, their arms crossed and their expressions awfully smug, and shakes her hand.

“You realise Jack always wins, right?” Michael whispers as they head to the garage. “Jeremy, you've just signed away a thousand bucks to her.”

“We'll see,” Jeremy laughs, unlocking the news van and sliding into the driver's seat.

“I mean, she does always get there faster,” Gavin says, climbing into the back with Michael.

“Guess we'll just have to be quick on the shots,” Michael replies. “Get your camera ready.”

“Way ahead of you, boi.”

The comms crackle to life in their ears and Ryan's voice comes through after he clears his throat.

“Okay, everyone ready?” He asks, and Jeremy's van chimes in positive.

“First task,” Ryan drawls, a paper unfolding on his end. “First ones to get a picture of a human flagpole – go!”

The garage door lifts and Jack's van _squeals_ out, Jeremy hot on her heels, while Michael and Gavin and Geoff bicker about what a human flagpole is and whether or not it's news.

“It's news!”

“No it's not Geoff, that's like saying bloody – parkour is news!”

“It is!”

“No it isn't – _Jeremy don't take the ramp oh god!_ '

\-- 

Jeremy takes Ryan out for Chinese after a heist and they end up at Ryan's place, the keys not even out of his hand before he's pinning Jeremy to the door and kissing all the breath out of him. He laughs against Jeremy's mouth when Jeremy grunts in surprise and fists his hands in Jeremy's leather jacket to pull him away and walk them down the hallway, barely breaking the kiss.

Ryan pauses to kick his shoes off and Jeremy does the same, sliding his hands around to grip Ryan's waist and kiss back just as hard, groaning as Ryan gets them to the bedroom, pushes Jeremy on the bed and climbs on top of him, biting at his lip and panting hot between them. Jeremy's glad Ryan wiped off the worst of the paint in the car, mostly now just smudges around the edge of his face and eyes. It's a much nicer sight than the skull, although Jeremy's not _exactly_ opposed to fucking with it on.

In a pause for breath Jeremy pushes Ryan's jacket off, shimmies out of his own and shoves them both to the ground before he pulls Ryan down again, spreading his legs for Ryan to fit between them. Ryan moans into his mouth and Jeremy yanks Ryan down harder, starts rolling his hips up against the slight bulge in Ryan's jeans to hopefully give him some friction. He grunts in frustration and Ryan laughs quietly, reaches down to push Jeremy's hips down and when Jeremy tries to buck again, presses a little more firmly.

“Save yourself the trouble,” he says, muffling Jeremy's confused noise with a kiss as he palms Jeremy through his jeans, grinding the heel of his hand down and sending shudders up Jeremy's spine.

Jeremy's plenty hard and ready by the time he manages to vocalise his want, rocking up into Ryan's hand and planting a hand between his shoulder blades to keep him close.

“Ryan – Ryan, fuck me,” he gasps, groaning at the next slow squeeze Ryan gives him. “Shit, I want you to fuck me.”

Ryan grins against his lips and leaves Jeremy's cock to slide a hand up under his shirt, dragging his nails through the hair to rest flat on his chest.

“Yeah?” He asks, moans at Jeremy's frantic nods and ducks to press his lips to Jeremy's neck. “Fuck, get me so hard with all your begging,” he continues, and Jeremy groans at the rumble of his voice, tangling a hand in his hair to get at his mouth again. Ryan kisses him hot and deep and Jeremy’s hands startroaming all over him, but Ryan stops him when he starts tugging up Ryan's shirt.

“Wait – wait,” Ryan says with a sigh, pulling away to put some distance between them. “There's – There's something you need to know.”

“What?” Jeremy asks, and Ryan swallows, glances away. His fingers fidget over Jeremy's and he doesn't speak for a few moments.

“Ryan?” Jeremy tries, and this time Ryan pushes up to kneel between Jeremy's legs.

His hands slip away to undo his jeans and he rises up a little to push the jeans and underwear down, just barely enough that Jeremy can see, not looking up once before nervously placing his hands on Jeremy's thighs. Jeremy can feel them trembling. He covers one with his own as he props himself up on an elbow, glancing down between Ryan's legs.

He knows what Ryan's expecting him to say.

“Holy shit, you have a dick piercing?” Jeremy says instead, and Ryan stiffens before laughing a touch nervously, leaning over Jeremy a little more as Jeremy openly admires the piercing – a shiny silver barbell that looks fucking _hot_ against the dark pink of Ryan's dick.

“That's, uh, not what I meant,” Ryan says, and Jeremy pushes himself up on a hand to kiss him.

“The other thing's pretty cool, too,” Jeremy breathes, opening his eyes to look into Ryan's wide blue ones. “Can I take off your shirt?”

Ryan's eyes flick over his face and he swallows audibly, his nose brushing Jeremy's.

“It's, uh – scars,” he says quietly, and Jeremy nods in understanding.

Ryan guides one of his hands to the hem of his shirt and helps Jeremy tug it off one-handed, tossing it to the side as Jeremy runs his hand down Ryan's chest, over the hair trailing down to his cock. And there _are_ scars, ones from their work and then a few telling ones under Ryan's pecs.

So Ryan's trans. That's, yeah, that's a surprise. Doesn't stop Jeremy from wanting him, though. Not in the fucking _slightest_.

“Fuck, can I – can I touch?” Jeremy asks, his hand hovering over Ryan's crotch, and Ryan nods and sucks in a breath when Jeremy places two fingers on his dick and rubs in a slow circle. He drags his thumb over the barbell and Ryan sucks in a breath, lays him down on his back and kisses him again.

“Do you still – ” Ryan starts, and Jeremy interrupts with a groan.

“ _Yes_ , fuck me, Ryan, come on,” he says, and Ryan grins against his mouth, presses a couple more kisses to his lower lip before scooting off the bed, breathlessly instructing Jeremy to get his clothes off.

Jeremy gets naked as quick as he fucking can while Ryan undresses and steps into a harness, and before he knows it Ryan's crawling back between his legs, a bottle of lube in his hand and something looser in his kisses, something _relieved_.

This time it takes a total of thirty seconds for Jeremy to get impatient and Ryan just chuckles against his jaw, low and deep and _fuck_ his voice rumbling through Jeremy's bones and down to his cock. But he does slick up a couple of fingers, taps over Jeremy's dick before trailing down to his hole and rubbing in firm circles to loosen him up. Jeremy groans loudly and reaches down to – well, shit, he's not quite sure what to do here.

“Fuck, I wanna – how do I – wanna get you off,” he pants as Ryan works a thick finger into him, the burn hot and aching but not nearly enough to deter Jeremy. Ryan uses his other hand to guide Jeremy's down to the dildo, encouraging him to wrap his fingers around it and push it down a little – grinding it up against Ryan's cock, Jeremy realises, and repeats the move to make Ryan moan.

“Yeah, just like that,” Ryan says, bracing himself on his hand again and twisting his finger inside Jeremy.

Somehow Jeremy manages to keep himself together enough to jerk Ryan off, making him shudder and groan as Ryan eases more fingers into him, lube-slick and a little clumsy with every press Jeremy gives him but Jeremy just moans and fucks down eagerly onto his hand. There's wet noises echoing between them, and it takes Jeremy far too long to realise they're not all coming from _him_ and that's how he realises there's part of the toy _in Ryan_ and with that new knowledge starts jacking him differently, trying to angle all the parts of it correctly.

It must work because all of a sudden Ryan halts, panting harshly into Jeremy's neck and rocking desperately into his movements and the wet noise gets a whole lot louder and Ryan shudders, spitting out curses and fucking up fitfully into Jeremy's fist.

“Oh shit, _fuck_ , Ryan,” Jeremy gasps, and the words seem to make Ryan remember what he's doing, crooking his fingers inside Jeremy and dragging the tips over his prostate to force out a ragged groan. Jeremy lets up on Ryan's dick and Ryan fucks him all the harder for it, twisting his wrist on every slide in and thoroughly stretching Jeremy out.

Jeremy groans at the loss of Ryan's fingers and Ryan shushes him with a kiss, slicking himself up and pressing the head against Jeremy. Another shudder runs through him and Jeremy braces himself on his elbow as Ryan pushes in, thick and steady. He pauses halfway in, at least until Jeremy hikes a leg up over his hip and knocks his ass with his heel, urging him to sink all the way in.

“Aw _fuck_ ,” Jeremy groans, tipping his head back to catch his breath. Ryan smirks against his throat and circles his hips.

“This what you wanted, Jeremy?” He asks, breath puffing out hot over Jeremy's skin. He cuts off Jeremy's reply with a short thrust and Jeremy lifts his head to crush his lips to Ryan's, something akin to a low whine leaving him when Ryan grinds in again.

Ryan gives up his teasing to _actually_ fuck Jeremy, setting a fast pace that makes Jeremy's knees weak as he clenches around the toy. His panting is hot and loud against Jeremy's jaw and he fumbles down to wrap a hand around Jeremy's cock and stroke him in time – Jeremy groans and crashes down onto his back, curling his fingers in Ryan's hair and holding on as Ryan fucks him up the bed, fucking _amazing_ like Jeremy knew he would be.

“Not gonna – Ry, gonna come - ” Jeremy says through gritted teeth, each snap of Ryan's hips punching out a groan from him as Ryan angles _right_ for his prostate. His hand flies over Jeremy's dick and before Jeremy even knows it his toes are curling and his arms are tensing and he's coming messy between them, muffling his moan in Ryan's hair as Ryan fucks him right though it, everything sensitive and hot while sparks zip up his spine.

Jeremy bucks up violently at the next shove of Ryan's hips, the head of the dildo pressing _hard_ against his prostate and it's so good it _hurts_ and Ryan coughs out a moan, stays still as he rocks on the toy and Jeremy almost lets him just get himself off but then gathers the strength to push him up, urging him to pull out. Ryan groans but obeys, lets Jeremy tug him back over to hover above.

“Fuck, wanna get you off,” Jeremy pants, and, with Ryan's nod, works his hands down, one gripping the wet shaft and rocking it to fuck it inside Ryan and the other slipping underneath the harness to thumb at his cock, roll gently over the barbell. Ryan muffles a low growl into Jeremy's neck and thrusts steadily into his hands, shuddering every time Jeremy rubs over the underside of his dick.

Jeremy's still more than a little distracted by the _piercing_ , and wherever his thumb wanders it almost inevitably ends up back there, playing with the slim metal and stroking over it, but thankfully Ryan seems to _love_ that, his hips rocking more fervently with each passing second. He presses his open, panting mouth to the crook of Jeremy's neck and shoulder and suddenly he jolts forward and his teeth sink into Jeremy's skin, sharp and abrupt as he groans low in his throat and comes, the sound of him now distinctly wetter and his cock slicking up against Jeremy's thumb.

A few moments later Ryan pushes his hands away, oversensitive and sore and Jeremy lifts his soaked thumb to his mouth to lick off Ryan's come while Ryan watches.

“God,” Ryan whispers, surging up to kiss him. Jeremy shifts up onto his elbows again and Ryan leans back on his knees for a breather. He looks down and loosens the harness, sliding the bit out of him and letting it drop to the bed, gracelessly shoving it off his legs without getting up and leaving it to the side when he does manage to free himself. Jeremy notices the slight mess on Ryan's inner thighs, a drop of slick rolling down one of them, and drags his gaze back up to Ryan's flushed face.

Ryan rakes a hand through his hair and grins lazily at Jeremy, leaning back down on his elbows to press their lips together and hum contentedly into Jeremy's mouth.

\-- 

Gavin giggles as he types something on his phone and both Michael and Jeremy look up from their work, Michael's brows furrowed as he dusts his hands off on his jeans.

“Whatcha doin'?” He asks, walking over to grab another firework.

“Getting pizza,” Gavin chirps, giggling again as he pockets his phone.

Jeremy stabs a metal stick into the ground and lashes a firework to it, standing up to also get another explosive – it was Gavin's idea to cover Mount Chiliad in fireworks, and then they're going to go out on a boat and detonate them and watch the display. It's a pretty great idea to Jeremy, except - 

“Who's gonna deliver pizza to the top of a mountain?” 

\-- 

A big, black, LSPD chopper lands on a rocky outcropping away from their setup, and Jeremy reflexively reaches for the gun in his waistband before the door opens and Ryan steps out, pizza boxes on his arm and a plastic bag swinging from his wrist. He slides his sunglasses up onto his face as he walks towards them, grinning wide and clad in his ever-present face paint.

“Oh sweet, thanks Ry-bread!” Gavin says, going over to relieve him of the boxes – Michael takes one of them and Jeremy strides up as Ryan's opening the drinks bag, passing Michael and Jeremy dark bottles of beer and giving Gavin -

“What is this?” Gavin asks, peering at the label. Ryan smiles innocently and Michael leans in to look at it, breaking into laughter shortly after.

“It's light beer!” He cackles, tossing his head back as he laughs. “You gave him light!”

“Yeah, well,” Ryan says with a shrug. “It's already Gavin and explosives. I don't think alcohol would be good mix.”

“Aw, _weak_ ,” Gavin mutters, popping off the cap nonetheless and taking a swig. He pulls a face but doesn't complain further, and then next thing Ryan pulls out of the bag is a giant two litre thing of Diet Coke.

“Wow, really went all out, didn't you?” Jeremy jokes, nabbing a slice of pizza from the box Michael's opening.

“Gavin paid,” Ryan says. “Anyway, I was your delivery boy. I deserve it.”

“Oh no, looks like we don't have any money for a tip,” Michael teases, raising a flirty eyebrow, “maybe we can work something out.” He glances at Jeremy and jerks his head to Ryan. “Jeremy, go fuck the delivery boy.”

Ryan laughs brightly and Jeremy rolls his eyes, folding his pizza to stuff it into his mouth – Ryan flips his cap around so the bill is over his eyes and waggles his eyebrow suggestively at Jeremy, placing a hand on his hip and cocking it out.

“Nice try,” Jeremy says through a mouthful of dough. Michael chuckles and offers Gavin the pizza before taking his own piece, and Ryan grabs some and then they're all standing around chewing for a few silent moments.

“So where'd you get the chopper?” Gavin asks, looking at said chopper. Ryan casually glances back at it and lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

“I was busy,” he says. “Running some errands before you texted me.”

“Did you stop and order pizza while running from the cops?” Jeremy asks.

“No, don't be ridiculous,” Ryan scoffs, twisting open his giant bottle of soda. “I _picked up_ pizza while running from the cops.”

\-- 

Jeremy flattens himself to the wall and slams Gavin back beside him with a hand on his chest, both of them holding their breath as footsteps pass by the hallway.

“You just need to get out and you're done,” Geoff says over the comms. Gavin touches his ear and turns towards Jeremy to speak.

“Yeah, we're almost out,” he mutters, and then Jeremy silently pads to the end of their corridor, Gavin following like a shadow.

With the hallway empty, they scurry to the door at the end, but pushing it open trips a loud, screeching alarm and lights flood the compound and they're running, scrambling to get to the fence and climb over – Gavin collapses gracelessly on the other side and Jeremy lands on his feet before grabbing Gavin's shoulder and leading him away. They glance back over their shoulders and Jeremy's heart leaps into his throat when he sees a pack of men running after them, dogs in front of them and Gavin's shrieking and sprinting and they're trying to outrun dogs as well as guards now, _fuck_.

“Start the engines, start the engines!” Jeremy shouts as they burst onto the airstrip, barrelling towards the tiny plane waiting at the end. Its propeller starts turning, slowly, and then the engines fire up and Jeremy ducks under the wing to reach the door, Gavin quickly climbing in first and reaching back to help yank Jeremy in as the plane starts _moving_ , rapidly picking up speed and heading _right towards_ their pursuers.

The guards dive out of the way and the dogs turn tail, Gavin laughing almost hysterically as they take off, engines whirring loudly. Jeremy breathes a sigh of relief and slumps into a seat, slipping out the information disk from his pocket and looking at it.

“What happened to stealth?” Ryan asks wryly over the comms.

“Shut up, it was your idea for the plane,” Gavin replies, gazing out the window as the ground shrinks below them. “That would have alerted them anyway.”

“Got you out, didn't I?” And as if to emphasise, Ryan cuts the engine and they freefall for an odd, dizzying moment and while Gavin screams the plane straightens out again.

“Ryan!” Gavin yells, all the colour drained from his face. “Ryan, don't _do_ that!”

“Do what?” Ryan asks innocently, and Jeremy snorts with laughter.

“What are you doing to my crew, Haywood?” Geoff asks, his end of the line staticky with the distance.

“Nothing,” Ryan chirps, the smirk clear in his voice. “I'm simply flying them away from a crime scene.”

“Yeah, the next crime scene'll be your car if you fuck around,” Geoff grumbles. “Just get back here on time.”

“Yes sir!”

Geoff sighs and clicks off his comm and they're left to their own devices – Gavin finds an unopened bottle of whiskey and Jeremy finds a pack of cards and it devolves from there.

\-- 

Jack loops an arm around Geoff's and Jeremy's necks, a beer bottle in one hand and the other gripping Jeremy's shoulder, drunkenly cheering as fireworks burst in the sky. Jeremy laughs and Jack smacks a kiss to his cheek, leaving a lipstick stain before she moves to go get more beer – Jeremy wipes the lipstick off on his sleeve and watches Michael holler loudly into the night, his words slightly slurred but enthusiastic, and Gavin laughs madly at his antics and hands Ryan a Diet Coke.

It's New Year's and they're gathered on the roof of Geoff's penthouse, surrounded by coolers and snacks and whooping at the annual Los Santos fireworks display, light blooming over the sky in an explosion only rivalled by Michael's rigs. There's crowds gathered on the balconies and in the streets, most people drunk by now as the clock edges towards midnight and a series of brilliant white sparklers goes _zipping_ into the air, pretty sparkling drops falling down to the city.

And _all_ of Los Santos is lit up, skyscrapers decked out in red and green and storefronts adorned with lights and decorations, a huge Santa puffed up on the top of Maze Bank and a giant Frosty in the plaza. There's an ice rink somewhere and Christmas trees in public squares, huge and glittering in the night.

“'S almost the countdown, isn't it?” Geoff asks, knocking back the last of his Coke and popping open another can – he's not drunk at all but he's got the most lipstick kisses, not even wiping them away because Jack only returns to plant more – she always is an affectionate drunk. Jeremy himself is buzzed – not drunk, at least not yet – and Michael and Gavin are pretty much past tipsy into plastered but still having a good time, munching on the popcorn Ryan brought up and trading playful insults as they fight for it.

“Yeah,” Jack says loudly, looping her arm around Geoff again. Ryan comes up to stand beside Jeremy, holding his can in one hand and the other tucked into his pocket as he watches the fireworks.

“Supposed to kiss someone, aren't you?” Gavin asks from the other side of Geoff and Jack.

“Yeah, well we're all lonely dipshits here,” Michael replies, the last of his sentence muffled by a mouthful of popcorn.

“I mean, Ryan and Jeremy could do it,” Geoff says, grinning at them.

“Gross,” Michael comments, not unkindly, and Jeremy leans back to flip him off behind Jack's back. Ryan doesn't reply, just takes another swig and smiles at Jeremy. He's never really been much for PDA, Jeremy's noticed, doesn't offer much in the way of contact when they're around the crew.

His attention is pulled from Ryan – and the eerie red and green face paint, worn to be “festive” - back to the fireworks and then those suddenly stop and there's a moment of breathless anticipation before a big 10 pops up in lights on the skyscrapers all around Los Santos. The crowds roar and cheer and Jack keeps up a constant yell as the numbers count down, joined by Michael's whooping and Gavin's ululating. It ticks down to six, to five.

“Four! Three! Two! - “ Ryan steps back the tiniest amount in Jeremy's periphery, “One!”

The sky explodes into light and fireworks and everyone shouts and yells and cheers and suddenly there's a hand on Jeremy's waist and he's turned and Ryan kisses him, one hand cupping Jeremy's jaw as the city whoops beneath them. Michael wolf-whistles loudly at them and Jack cheers with him but Ryan pays it no mind, just kisses Jeremy deep and slow and _thorough_. He tastes like soda and cheesy popcorn and Jeremy rests his hands on Ryan's hips, feels his cheeks heat as his breathing kicks up to panting.

Ryan pulls away with a quiet smack, hands still on Jeremy as he looks at him with a smile brighter than the fireworks, brighter than the goddamn _sun_. The paint is smeared badly around his mouth, practically gone on his lips, and Jeremy ignores Michael's fresh bout of whistling as he fists his hands low in Ryan's jacket and pulls him back down for another kiss.

Happy _fucking_ New Years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned some art from the amazing and talented Ro over [here](http://jeremwood.tumblr.com/post/167429292493/my-good-buddy-redvsvblue-commissioned-me-to-draw)!


	3. Chapter 3

“I don't understand why you just don't _use the fucking medkit_.”

“Because, _Ryan_ , what if I need it _la_ ter?”

“You need it now! You're at twenty percent health!”

“That's enough!”

“What about fucking - “ a gunshot followed by Gavin's shriek - “ _now_ , then?”

“ _Ryan_! You shot me! You bloody shot me!”

“Well, you weren't using your medkit!”

Michael cackles loudly into his headset as Gavin yelps, now very much using his medkit as Ryan takes off across the field on-screen. Jeremy laughs and Ryan chuckles quietly, dropping to prone in the distance as he slithers into the white zone.

“You comin' or what?” He asks. “Blue zone's about to start.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if some of us didn't have extra holes in their lungs now,” Gavin grumbles.

“Careful, you almost owed him a dollar,” Michael teases.

“Oh no, a whole dollar,” Ryan deadpans. “What a tax.”

“You _shot_ me!”

“And now your health is back up to seventy-five!”

Ryan and Gavin bicker some more while Jeremy slowly creeps out from behind his rock cover, silently watching Michael's back as they all proceed into the white. The blue zone starts closing in behind them and the number in the top right ticks down to 62.

“Oh shit, Jack's down!” Michael giggles, all of them erupting into laughter as Geoff's shrieking echoes down the hallway. They're playing PUBG but split into two rooms – Jeremy, Ryan, Michael, and Gavin in the office of the penthouse and Geoff and Jack farther down in Geoff's bedroom, split off after Gavin sniped Jack in the head while on the same team.

The counter lowers to 61 when Jack gets obliterated by an M16.

All their equipment's crowded in here, Ryan and Michael in proper chairs and Jeremy on a shitty little fold out one and Gavin cross-legged on the floor, frowning at his screen. Ryan leans out a little to the open door.

“Hey Geoff, how's the loser team?!” He shouts, and Geoff's strangled, incoherent yell in response makes them all laugh.

“Fuck you guys!” Jack hollers. Michael cracks up all over again and moments later Geoff's name pops up in the lower left and he's down.

Michael and Jeremy crow their victory over the other two while Ryan and Gavin laugh and trade supplies, and two seconds later their entire room explodes into screaming and swearing as bullets riddle them, everyone scattering for cover as Gavin yells about _is_ now _a good time to use my medkit, Ryan? Is it?!_ and Michael spits out a constant stream of curses and Jeremy chokes out noises as he bleeds out behind a tree.

Geoff's joyous laughter at their demise rings out through the hallway. A chorus of _fuck you_ s rings back.

\-- 

Jeremy sneaks into Gavin's room by carefully slipping through the ajar door, sucking in as he goes and padding very quietly to Gavin, who's hunched over his desk and working diligently at a computer. The room is dark save for the bright screen, and Jeremy grins to himself.

He stops behind Gavin and slaps his hands onto his shoulders with a casual “Hey, Gavin” - Gavin yelps and jumps in his seat, glaring up at Jeremy once he realises it's just him. Jeremy laughs and leans down to rest his chin on Gavin's shoulder, dropping his hands to the arms of the chair.

“I hate you, Lil J,” Gavin mutters, turning back to his work. “Utter bastard.”

“Whatcha workin' on?” Jeremy asks brightly, watching as Gavin brings up new windows.

“Clearin' evidence,” Gavin says, and up pops a black and white picture of a young girl, sneering as she holds up the placard. Gavin stiffens a little under Jeremy but Jeremy hardly takes notice of it.

“Who's that?” Jeremy asks, furrowing his brows as he studies the picture. She's young, either a teenager or just barely an adult, with her hair in a ratty ponytail and a black eye. There's blood smeared down her chin from the split lip.

“She get caught in the explosion?” Jeremy adds. “From the other gang?”

Gavin doesn't reply, and then scrolls over to the rest of the rap sheet.

_Last Name: Haywood_

_First Name: Jamie_

_Middle Initial: R_

Jeremy sucks in a breath and mumbles a quiet _oh_ into the space between them. He keeps reading.

_Race: W_

_Sex: F_

The newest crime, under the long list, is the rob job they pulled last week.

“You're clearing it?” Jeremy asks. Gavin drags the file to somewhere else and a new window appears with blinking green text. Gavin starts typing.

“Well, yeah,” he says, and then frowns a little. “The info's all wrong.”

Jeremy stays silent for a moment and Gavin erases the file, switches over to some security footage.

“Don't they have a newer picture?” He asks. Gavin lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

“Yeah, but I've deleted all those,” he says. “They just keep dragging that same old one up – I think they have it in the FIB database. I can't safely get to it.” He glances at Jeremy and opens up a trimming tool. “Anyway, it's not much work to clear just one.”

Jeremy nods and silence settles over them as Gavin sews together innocent footage clips.

“Need any help?” Jeremy asks after a while.

“If you could get me a drink that'd be top,” Gavin replies, laser-focused on his editing. Jeremy nods and stands to leave – Gavin calls back a “Thanks, Lil J!” as Jeremy walks out.

\-- 

Bullets ricochet off of Michael's car as he swerves around the corner, the rims screeching painfully against the asphalt. The turn knocks Jeremy against the window and he grunts in pain, reloading his rifle and glancing in the cracked mirror to see if the police follow.

“Michael, we don't have any tyres!” Jeremy says, yelping when they bump _painfully_ over something.

“I know,” Michael says through gritted teeth, elbows locked as he pushes the car forward but it's slowing, grinding gradually to a shuddering halt. Sirens whoop and Michael manages to edge the ruined car around the next corner – it stops right{dead} in the middle of the road and Michael grabs the duffel in the back and hops out, Jeremy hot on his heels as Michael races down the pavement.

“Where are we going?!” He yells. Pedestrians scurry out of their way and Michael shoots him a grin.

“You know who lives around here!”

Jeremy looks up at the 'scraper and over at the square and oh shit, he _does_ know who lives here.

“Michael, it's five! He's probably not even in!”

“We'll see!”

Jeremy glances back and sees a flash of red/white/blue just as Michael banks a sharp right through a pair of glass doors straight into a fancy lobby, barrelling past the patrons to the lifts. He frantically presses the button and Jeremy fiddles out the lift key from his pocket as they wait.

The doors _ding_ open and they immediately dart in, stabbing the top floor button while Jeremy inserts the key and twists it.

Michael relaxes once the lift starts moving, slumping against the wall and running a hand through his hair – ash drifts down onto the carpet and Jeremy nudges at it with his shoe. Jeremy wipes dust off his cheek using the wide wall mirrors, leaning in close enough his breath fogs up the glass.

The lift shakes around them as it squeals up to the right floor – Michael pushes off the wall just as the doors open and Jeremy hikes up his duffle to follow.

The hallway seems almost too quiet when they start walking down it, Jeremy’s lungs burning from the effort of silencing his panting and Michael’s footsteps thumping oddly loudly on the carpet.

They come to a stop at the door at the end, briefly fixing their clothes before Michael raps on the door. There's no response, and he bangs louder, sharing an exasperated look with Jeremy.

“Told you he wasn't in,” Jeremy says, and a moment later the door opens – Michael grins smugly at him – to reveal Ryan, his cheeks flushed and mouth downturned in a scowl.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asks, crossing his arms. Michael just smiles and Jeremy nods politely, noting the frustration tight in Ryan's body.

“Cops got a little hot,” Michael says. “You were nearest.”

“How bad is it?”

“Not too bad. Just need to lay low for a while.”

Ryan sighs irritably and his jaw flexes.

“What, did we interrupt your jerk off sesh?” Michael teases, waggling his eyebrows. Ryan exhales sharply through his nose and steps back to let them in, firmly shutting the door behind them.

“Holy shit, you _were_ jerking off!” Michael exclaims, laughing brightly as he walks in, setting the duffel down by the door.

“Shut up,” Ryan mutters, moving past them to the kitchen. Michael strolls to the living room and plops down on Ryan's sofa with a relieved sigh, stretching his arms out over the back while Jeremy collapses next to him.

Ryan appears with a few cans in hand, sliding them over on the table and standing to drink his, popping it open one-handed and taking a long sip.

“You can go finish, I don't mind,” Michael says with a shrug. He glances at Jeremy and grins while he picks up his drink. “Why don't you go help him, Jeremy?”

Jeremy laughs and Michael clinks their cans together, relaxing back into the sofa as Ryan leans against the wall. Ryan catches Jeremy's eye and raises an eyebrow – in a _question_ , Jeremy realises, an answer to Michael's offer.

“Can, uh, can I use your bathroom?” Jeremy asks, nodding slightly to Ryan.

“Subtle,” Michael comments, leaning forward for the remote and clicking on the TV. “Have fun, kids!”

Jeremy flicks Michael's thigh before putting his drink down and standing up to wander down the hallway – he hears Ryan and Michael trade a few words before footsteps follow. He stops in front of the bathroom door, hand hovering over the handle.

“Robbed a jewellery store, did you?” Ryan asks, his breath blowing out hot over Jeremy's neck as his hands curl around his hips. “Didya get me anything?”

“Take your pick. I'm pretty sure there's a skull charm in there somewhere.”

Ryan laughs and Jeremy smiles, half-turning to see him.

“Are we moving to the bedroom, or – ?”

“Nah, I was in here anyway,” Ryan replies, jerking his chin to the bathroom. Jeremy opens the door and Ryan nudges him in, kicking the door shut behind him and dipping to press hot kisses to Jeremy's neck.

Jeremy's eyes are immediately drawn to the dildo lying on the corner of the tub, shiny and slick and a light blue that quite oddly matches Ryan's eyes.

“Why were you jerking off in the bathroom?” Jeremy asks, tilting his head to give Ryan more room.

“I was about to shower.” Ryan nips playfully at his jugular and squeezes Jeremy's hips. His voice drops a couple notches. “Was about to come when you knocked.”

“Fuck,” Jeremy breathes. Ryan's low chuckle shudders through him and Jeremy turns around in his grip, crushing their lips together as Ryan grabs desperately at him.

Ryan backs him up to the wall beside the tub, spins them so Jeremy's pinning him to the paint and fumbles his own jeans down, panting against Jeremy's mouth. Jeremy slides a hand down between them and grinds a thumb over Ryan's cock as Ryan shoves his clothes down enough to spread his legs. He rolls his thumb over the piercing and _god_ , Ryan's slick down here, Jeremy's knuckles slipping in the mess as he gently pinches Ryan's dick, tugging to draw out a low moan from Ryan.

A hand curls into Jeremy's shirt and Ryan breaks away to grab the dildo, quickly returning to Jeremy's mouth and putting his hand between his legs, nudging Jeremy's wrist to the side as he lines up and slides the toy in again with a shudder.

“'M close, 'm close,” he mumbles, fucking in with wet noises and rocking up eagerly against Jeremy's fingers. Jeremy flushes hot all over at the sound and rubs Ryan fast to match the pace of the toy, sweeping his free hand up Ryan's side and smoothing over his chest, thumbing at his nipples under the shirt. Ryan buries his face in Jeremy's neck and pants shallowly, clenching Jeremy's shirt tight enough his knuckles go white as his arm works frantically between them, angling awkwardly to hit what must be a good spot because he grunts on every thrust in.

Jeremy jacks Ryan as best he can from this angle, his forearm rubbing against Ryan's as Ryan fucks in furiously, stutters out these little 'ah-ah's and bucks up into Jeremy's touch. He locks up all over and groans loudly into Jeremy's neck, the sound breaking into a moan as he shudders and comes, thighs trying to clamp together but blocked by Jeremy's body. The wet noise gets louder, more obscene, and Jeremy slows his fingers a little bit while Ryan grinds the toy in, pants hotly against his neck and eventually slides the toy out, knocking Jeremy's hand away on his way.

“Fuck,” Ryan curses, dropping the dildo on the counter to their other side and running his hands up Jeremy's sides, lifting his head for a kiss. Jeremy 'mm's a little impatiently and Ryan unzips him with one hand, tugging him out of his underwear and giving him a couple of hot, tight strokes that make Jeremy's toes curl in his shoes.

Ryan's other hand briefly disappears between his own legs and then he switches his hands over – one goes to Jeremy's neck and the other one around his cock oh but now his fingers are _wet_ , wet with what must be _come_ , Jeremy thinks, groans loudly into Ryan's mouth and twitches in his hand. Ryan grins against his lips and bites at the lower one, swallows his quiet moans as he jerks him off.

Jeremy's hands fist fitfully in Ryan's shirt, clenching and relaxing as Ryan deftly works him over, tosses in a few twists to keep him desperate, smirking smugly all the while. It only takes mere minutes, got to be less than two, for Jeremy to come, thrusting up into Ryan's fist and probably staining his shirt but Ryan aims away and Jeremy glances down to see his come splatter on Ryan's thighs instead, and isn't _that_ a fucking sight – Jeremy moans pathetically and shivers, knees going weak when Ryan keeps going, stroking him all through it until Jeremy winces and he's dry.

Ryan takes his hand away and drags Jeremy back in for lazy kisses, seemingly uncaring of the mess between them. Jeremy curls his fingers around Ryan's neck and gives back as good as he gets.

After a while Ryan gently pushes him away, wiping a hand over his mouth and leaning over to grab tissues from the counter. Jeremy takes some and quickly cleans off before tucking himself back in – Ryan swipes at the slick spattered on his inner thighs, wipes himself before moving on to Jeremy's come. He discards the dirty tissues and pulls up his jeans but doesn't do them up yet.

“So how the fuck did you get the police on you?” Ryan asks, slumped against the wall and raking a hand through his hair. “It doesn't take that long to rob a jewellery store.”

“Well, uh - “ Jeremy shrugs sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck, “ - we got these new stickies? There were some parked cars?”

Ryan rolls his eyes.

“Menaces,” he scolds, a smile curling the corner of his mouth as he pulls Jeremy in for another kiss. “Go make sure Michael isn't fucking up my stuff.” With that he firmly pushes Jeremy towards the door.

“Aren't you coming?” Jeremy asks, pausing with his hand on the knob. Ryan gestures vaguely at the dildo and the toilet.

“Thought I already did.”

“ _Ryan_.”

“Gotta clean up a little,” Ryan says with a grin. “Two minutes.”

Jeremy gives him a two-fingered salute and leaves.

\-- 

Jack snaps in another clip on her SMG and Jeremy peeks over the edge of the boat, both of them scanning the horizon for any sign of more police. They bob gently on the water, almost peaceful if it weren't for the half-submerged cop boat and the corpses floating nearby.

“I think we're clear,” she says, glancing around warily. She touches her ear and looks at Jeremy as she speaks. “Guys, I think we're clear.”

The comms _explode_ into chatter - “Ryan, what the bloody fuck was that?!” “A missile!” “Wait, when the fuck did we get _those_?!” “That's not important, Geoff.” - and Jack giggles and rises to go back to the wheel. Jeremy pushes himself up and takes a moment to steady himself on the rocking boat before walking over to a seat and plopping down in it. It's drenched in ocean water, salty and cold as it seeps into his damp jeans but there's not a dry spot anywhere anyway.

Jack gives him a thumbs up, her hair dripping wet when she scoops it out of her face, and slowly steers the boat back towards shore. Jeremy looks up at the chopper above them and waves. In response, a flare shoots down into the water beside him.

“I'm sorry, _when_ did we decide to arm Ryan with shit like that?” Geoff squawks.

“Hey, I'm right here!” Ryan protests. “And it worked, didn't it?!”

“Yeah, it fuckin' _obliterated_ them,” Michael laughs, the blades whirring in his background. “Look at them! They're in fucking _pieces_!”

“The trap worked,” Jack points out. “We got all of Apex's double agents.”

“Finally,” Geoff mutters. “Fucking cunts.”

“Agreed,” Michael says. The conversation derails into where they're going to celebrate tonight – Gavin vouches for a rooftop bar, Michael offers up a new Italian place.

Jack turns her mic off and beckons Jeremy over – he crouches beside her and turns off his mic, too, at her gesture.

“So,” she says, smiling cheerfully at him. “That games expo is in town.” She raises an eyebrow and Jeremy perks up – he'd nearly forgotten about that.

“Yeah, it is,” he agrees.

“You wanna ditch the others and go?” Jack asks. “I've got two tickets.”

Jeremy's grin grows wider and Jack matches it, gunning the boat past two precarious rocks and a beach full of surfers.

“Yeah, that'd be awesome.”

“ _And_ I hear they've got a bar there, so...”

“Drunk Destiny?”

“Drunk Destiny.”

\-- 

The nightclub is _loud_ , music so bass-heavy Jeremy can feel it pound through his bones and can barely hear Michael's voice – there's wild blue and pink lights strobing over the crowd, bright and colourful and dizzying if Jeremy wasn't already dizzy from the Jägerbombs.

The dance floor is a mass of bodies, everyone clumped together and cheering as they rock in time to the beat. At some point Gavin and Jack drifted from the table and got lost in it – Jeremy and Michael and Geoff are drinking off to the side. Well, Jeremy and Michael are drinking. Geoff's steadily working his way through a six pack of Coke and they're all talkative and bubbly, Michael's laughter melting into the noise of the club and Geoff's grin wide as he loops an arm around Jeremy's shoulders.

The heist went nothing short of great, thick wads of cash in their pockets and literal gold bars in the safe back at the penthouse – newly rich and fresh off the cops, they all bundled out to the nearest club, and now Jeremy's hooking arms with Michael to take another shot and slamming the glass down rim-first moments before Michael does. Geoff giggles and pushes over the basket of wings so they can soothe the burn of tequila – the hot sauce doesn't really help, but they're welcomed nonetheless.

Suddenly a hand wraps around Jeremy's arm from the non-booth side and he glances up as Ryan pulls him out of the seat, flashing Michael and Geoff a grin before backing Jeremy up to the dance floor.

“You're back,” Jeremy says with a broad smile, happily going wherever Ryan's leading him, which is further around the dance floor – away from Geoff's sightline – and then into the crowd, pressing Jeremy up to him as he leans down to talk.

“Miss me?” He asks, biting his lip as his hands drag down to Jeremy's hips. The flashing lights make the face paint manic and ghoulish, exaggerating the black under Ryan's eyes and the swathes of red on his cheeks. He's finally joined them – Geoff sent him to go take care of a few loose ends, but Jeremy's pleased he still came to the club afterwards.

Jeremy laughs and the sound sharpens into a gasp when Ryan pulls their hips flush together, smirking as he plants a kiss on Jeremy's flushed cheek.

“Is that a gun or are you happy to see me?” Jeremy murmurs, sliding his hand down to feel the outline of the pistol stuck in Ryan's waistband. Ryan laughs and the music steps up into a faster beat, pulsing through Jeremy's veins.

His world abruptly spins as Ryan whirls him around, presses them hips-to-ass and deliberately grinds in to make Jeremy's knees weak. That cocky laugh again and Jeremy grins to himself, very purposefully swinging his hips in time – the cradle of Ryan's hands sets him into the rhythm and from there they're actually _dancing_. For what dancing counts as nowadays, at least. All Jeremy really knows is that Ryan’s the solid wall of heat up against his bak and his demanding little tugs to Jeremy’s hips are definitely sending something racing. And that while the dancing might not be hard, Jeremy certainly is, and Ryan’s shameless about grinding against his ass. Fucker.

Jeremy spins back around during the next song and sets his hands on Ryan's hips, sliding up under the hem of his shirt and tucking his thumbs underneath the waistband to rub at his skin, dragging the rough pads of his thumbs over bone to make Ryan shiver.

Jeremy can feel his shirt sticking damply to his back and there's a sheen of sweat on Ryan's throat as his gaze turns heated, trailing down to Jeremy's lips and lingering suggestively. Jeremy steps in even closer and Ryan's hand smoothly settles on his neck as he leans down to kiss him, the tastes of vodka and paint mixing sourly between them – Ryan tilts him and makes it deeper like he always does, like Jeremy's pure oxygen and Ryan’s suffocating. His tongue sweeps over Jeremy’s and Jeremy greedily tugs him closer.

“There you are, Ry-bread!” Someone exclaims, and Ryan pulls away as another arm lands over his shoulders. Looks like Gavin and Jack have found them, Gavin giggling drunkenly as he stumbles a little – Ryan reaches up to hold the hand resting over his shoulder to keep him steady. Jeremy laughs and looks over at Jack – her cheeks are pink with alcohol and she got beads at some point, five strands of them around her neck and draped down to her navel. There’s glitter smeared over Gavin’s cheek from somewhere and they're both sweaty but grinning, Jack bumping her fist against Jeremy's as she pops open the top button on her shirt.

“Yeah?” Ryan says in response to whatever Gavin's saying, too fast for Jeremy's tipsy mind to keep up, but Gavin seems excited, gesturing wildly with his free hand and hanging onto Ryan with the other.

“Sorry if we interrupted you,” Jack pants, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Nah, it's okay,” Jeremy says, waving a dismissive hand and wiping a hand over his mouth. It comes away with smudges of paint.

“They've got these killer shots over there,” Jack leans in to say. “Gavin's had a few.”

“Oh, has he?” Jeremy looks over to where Gavin is happily chattering away, breaking his monologue to wave cheerfully at Jeremy before turning back to Ryan, who laughs at whatever he's on about and replies in a low voice.

“Geoff and Michael still in the loser pit?” Jack asks.

“Yeah.”

Jack rolls her eyes and takes off one of her necklaces, handing it to Jeremy before she lifts up the hem of her shirt and ties it to the side to show some midriff. Jeremy honestly can't look for too long at her shorts because the stripes combined with the lights makes his head spin.

“I'm goin' after 'em,” she says with a grin, winking at Jeremy before pushing past him to escape the dance floor.

“Geoffrey!” She yells, and then Jeremy loses her in the crowd and turns back to Gavin and Ryan.

Ryan reaches out and hooks a finger in Jeremy's beltloop to tug him closer, curling an arm around his waist as Gavin giggles delightedly. They glance at him with matching amusement – there's a certain dangerous excitement in their sunny grins that makes Jeremy narrow his eyes.

“What?” He asks. Gavin giggles again and Ryan bites his lip to stop his grin growing even wider.

“Gav wants to liberate some Halloween decorations,” Ryan says, “wanna help?”

Jeremy raises an eyebrow but he's already totally in. Robbing the permanent Halloween store on Vespucci? Done, why the fuck is it even open now?

“You want to rob the Halloween store? We could just _buy_ decorations,” He protests anyway, purely on principle.

“Nah, not as fun,” Gavin says, his words only slurring slightly as he reaches over to poke Jeremy's nose. “You can be a ghost!”

“What are you, then?”

“He's a butterfly,” Ryan replies immediately, and ignores Gavin's protesting yelp.

“And you?” Jeremy asks, raking his eyes over Ryan.

“Well he's just a creepy motherfucker,” Gavin says.

“Hey! I put some effort in this, you know,” Ryan scolds, letting go of Gavin's hand to flick his ear. Gavin flinches and half-heartedly rubs his ear, pouting playfully at Ryan.

“It shows!” Gavin exclaims. “Tell you what, I'll buy you a proper skeleton outfit.”

“Can I have a scythe?”

“Skeletons don't have scythes!”

“Yeah, but they're fun!”

“You’re bloody _mad_ , Ryan.”

\-- 

The wheel spins through Jeremy's hands as the car straightens – Geoff shrieks in the backseat and something clatters but Jeremy's too scared to look away from the road, barely handling the car as he speeds downhill and turns into a sharp right, the loud rumble of the engine growling beneath him.

Over the comms he can hear the whir of the cargobob and the shouting in the other car and behind him he can hear Geoff shooting, the click of an empty clip and grumbling while Geoff reloads.

“Jeremy, go left, go left!” Gavin shrieks in his ear, and a grenade blows up nearby and bounces the car on its wheels – Jeremy panics and swings right again and Gavin loses his shit and Jeremy sputters out apologies as his hands tighten on the wheel.

“Ryan, go right – Jeremy, _left_!”

“Left?! That's a one-way street!” Jeremy yells.

“I don't give a toss, go left!”

Geoff yelps as Jeremy careens left and barrels down the street the wrong way, narrowly avoiding oncoming cars and jumping at the honking horns.

“Jeremy, right!”

Sirens whoops loudly and Gavin directs Jeremy around to another main road – he talks quickly to the other car, too, and Jeremy chances a glance up to see the chopper high above them.

“Jeremy, go to the drop bay!”

“I don't know where that is!” Jeremy shouts, palms slipping in sweat as he rights the car again, speeding down a straightaway.

“It's – uh – hold on, shit, I can get directions - “ Gavin mutters, immediately followed by frantic typing.

“I can lead him,” Ryan says, and a black van abruptly turns out from a side street in front of Jeremy, tipped on two wheels before it crashes down onto all four – over the comms Michael shouts and Ryan guns the van forward.

“Follow me!” He says over the comms, and Jeremy sticks close to the van as it winds around traffic and knocks away cones – one bounces off of Jeremy's windshield and his undignified shriek raises a round of laughter.

\-- 

“I fuckin' hate all of you,” Michael grumbles, tossing his shoe at Gavin's head – Gavin ducks with a yelp and it thuds harmlessly against the wall. “Who's fuckin' idea was this?”

Geoff laughs and bullies Jeremy's car up against the wall as Ryan and Jack bicker loudly about who has the ball and where it's going.

They're all in various stages of undress – Michael wanted to play Rocket League and then that turned into strip Rocket League thanks to Geoff – and so far Michael's shoeless and Jeremy's jacketless and Gavin's already completely shirtless. They're losing.

The other half of the sofa looks a little better – Geoff changed into a full suit because he's an asshole like that so he's only removed his tie thus far, Jack's had to give up her shirt so she's in a sports bra, and Ryan's still fully clothed. They're winning.

Gavin bounces the ball over Jack's car and frantic screaming erupts from everyone as Michael chases it to the half-broken floor, yelling obscenities while Jeremy fights Geoff's car away and when Gavin shrieks and goes flying across the map. Ryan laughs hysterically when Jack misses the ball and it goes _sailing_ into the hole, Michael and Gavin and Jeremy cheering loudly as Geoff groans and Jack glares at Ryan.

“You turn,” she says.

“It wasn't my fault!” Ryan protests.

“You didn't save it!”

“Yeah, and we've already gone, so - “ Geoff gestures at him “ - strip.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and pulls off his shirt, launching it at Geoff's face as he fixes the hem of his tank top.

“Just 'cause you wanna see me naked,” he teases, and Geoff bats weakly at him over Jack.

The next round Jeremy gets completely battered by Ryan and, with that distraction, Jack drives the ball right into a hole and Michael falls after it, yelling dramatically as he does – Gavin cracks up in fits of laughter and Jeremy sighs. He pulls his belt out of the loops and smacks Jack's thigh with it when she mutters a quiet _lame_. The floor finally resets and they start another match.

“Michael, no – Michael, _no_!” Gavin screams halfway through the next round, when he's driving crazily up the side of the sphere and Michael knocks the ball from him to sink it but Geoff butts it back to their side and Jeremy's frantically spinning to find it – Jack sideswipes him out of the way and Ryan gets most of their floor broken.

“You fuck!” Jeremy shouts when Jack shoves him across the map, trying to drive over her and boosting up the sphere instead – Jack just laughs and then Geoff's yelling instructions as Michael and Gavin fight Ryan – the ball rolls easily into their hole and Jeremy groans loudly, reaching forward for his drink while Michael physically wrestles Gavin for who loses clothes this time.

\-- 

Jeremy pushes his sunglasses up on his head as Ryan spins the paper around and twirls the pen between his fingers, waiting patiently for Jeremy's guess.

“Uh, e?” Jeremy asks. Ryan grins, puts an _e_ in the box and draws the head.

“Aw come on, what kind of word doesn't have a fuckin' e in it!” Jeremy exclaims.

“Well, 'word', for one,” Ryan replies. Jeremy sticks his tongue out at him.

They've been playing hangman for a few minutes now at an outside café table – Ryan went in a minute ago and ordered – a surprise, he said, insisted on paying, too, and Jeremy just rolled his eyes and let him. And now Ryan's got a fucking six letter word without _e_ and Jeremy regrets making his last turn so easy. Fucker didn't deserve that.

Jeremy guesses and Ryan scribble down a few more things – the man has a body and two arms and the word ends in _m_ – and when Jeremy randomly spat out _q?!_ Ryan laughed so hard he had to put the pen down. Jeremy's glad to play up his frustration if it gets him that sound again.

A couple of minutes later a waitress comes by with a tray – she puts a wide cup of what smells like coffee in front of Jeremy, a smaller one in front of Ryan, and a plate of pastries down between them, smiling politely as they thank her.

“An…r?”

Ryan writes down an _r_ in the first blank and Jeremy fistpumps to himself – Ryan laughs again and they lock eyes for a moment, stupid grins on both their faces as steam rises between them.

Jeremy glances down to study the design on his latte, barely aware of Ryan still staring at him, and then pushes the cup forward a little so Ryan can see.

“Hey, Jeremy,” Ryan says.

“Yeah?” Jeremy replies, a lot distracted by the lines of the foam, and is that -

“Does this look like a dick to you?” He asks the same time Ryan says, “I love you.”

Jeremy freezes, staring dumbfoundedly at his latte, and a moment later they both break into laughter, Ryan chuckling as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Jeremy feels a little bad for ruining the moment but when he looks up Ryan doesn't seem angry, or annoyed, is just peeking out at him over his knuckles and smiling.

“Shit, sorry, Ryan,” Jeremy says, laughing again when Ryan sighs.

“It's okay,” he says, lowering his hand to reach for a pastry. Jeremy lets the silence fall for a second and lets Ryan's words sink in – Ryan himself tears off a bite of croissant and pops it into his mouth, chasing it with coffee – and as the dick fades away Ryan pushes the paper towards him again and -

“I love you, too,” Jeremy says softly, nervously meeting Ryan's eyes. They crinkle with a grin and Jeremy scoots his chair over to tug Ryan in for a kiss that tastes like sugar and coffee.

Ryan melts into it and drops a hand to grab Jeremy's, linking their fingers and squeezing gently.

Jeremy loves him. Ryan loves him _back_.

“S?” Jeremy breathes when they break apart. Ryan's laughter bubbles up against his mouth and he shakes his head, his hand slipping away to grab the pen. But they stay close, elbows bumping each other as Ryan drags the paper over.

“I fucking hate you,” Jeremy grumbles, crossing his arms when Ryan pulls back to draw in a leg and grin smugly at him. He snags another bite of croissant, pops it into his mouth and offers the next bit to Jeremy.

“Want some?” He asks through his mouthful. Jeremy eyes it and then leans forward to slowly, dramatically close his lips around it, chewing quietly while Ryan laughs.

“L?”

“Nope.”


	4. Chapter 4

The cold stare of the detective is piercing and unsettling, but not nearly as unsettling as the Vagabond's grin.

Ryan looks _far_ too comfortable in handcuffs, legs sprawled out in from of him as he leans back in the uncomfortable metal chair, his hands tied tight behind it. The face paint is smeared on one side, dragged all the way down to his neck in wide streaks of red/white/black/grey and his hair falls in his eyes when he laughs.

Jeremy and Jack are bound similarly, except Jack just looks mostly annoyed and Jeremy – well, Jeremy's trying to project an air of Michael-like confidence but inside he's _shitting himself_ because this is the first time he's been arrested with the crew.

Okay, well, technically his first crew arrest was a few months after some light vandalism with Gavin, but they escaped before they even got in the cruiser.

So it's his first time in _custody_ during his association with the Fakes. And now he can definitely see why the news portrays them all wrong – it's because they _present_ themselves all wrong.

Ryan _really_ plays up the mad mercenary moniker, grinning almost manically and replying with quick, flippant answers that aren't answers at all, casually shrugs off the accusations and merely says that _if I had done it there wouldn't have been any of him left to find. Officer_.

And Jack – god, _Jack_. She's steely and silent, glaring at the detective and sneering when spoken to. She doesn't answer anything save for a snappy _go fuck yourself_ and now Jeremy knows why she's known as the Bitch over the police radios. It's such a complete turnaround that it nearly gives Jeremy whiplash, and he's left over here wondering what the fuck to _do_ with himself. He doesn't want to put up a front he can't hold, doesn't want to seem like the weakest link at the same time. He's fucked, he's boned, he's absolutely -

“Oh, he can tell you all about her,” Ryan says, head lolling over to look at Jeremy. Jeremy leans forward to see around Jack and Ryan grins, his tongue poking out of his mouth. “Can't you, 'Dozer?”

 _Dozer_?

“What?” He asks flatly, feigning boredom. Jack sighs irritably, _loudly_ in her chair and one of the officers shoots her a warning glare.

“All about that nice lady whose throat you ripped out,” Ryan says sweetly. “Fucked up your paintjob, didn't she?” What the _fuck_ , he's _never_ ripped out _anyone's_ throat!

“I think that's enough, Haywood,” the detective snarls, holding a hand palm-out to him and turning to Jeremy.

“What kinda name is Dozer?” An officer asks quietly.

“I dunno, always sleepin' on the job?” The other replies, and the detective snaps a _shut up_ to them as well.

“'Dozer, as in _Bulldozer_ ,” Jack says, rolling her eyes. “Y'know, 'cause he's yella' like one.” She shoots him asnideglance and Ryan laughs loudly – forcibly – at her insult. Jeremy scoffs.

The detective glances back at the files on the table behind her, levels Jeremy with an unreadable stare.

“Boston kid, huh?” She asks, crosses her arms and perches on the edge of table like she has all the time in the world. “Long way to come.”

“Hm, none of your business,” Jeremy says – Ryan laughs again, this time more genuine, and one of the officers steps forward, hand on his gun. They have a little stare-down while the detective narrows her eyes at Jeremy.

“The docks,” she says, tilting her head. “Why'd you blow them?”

“I didn't.”

She scoffs.

“Mr. Dooley,” she says slowly, condescension dripping from her voice like honey. “We have _security footage_ of you and your friends setting military grades detonation charges at the west harbour docks at midnight yesterday.”

“The only thing he's blowing here is me,” Ryan jokes, and Jeremy looks over just in time to see him get tased, juddering violently in the chair as he screams and doubles over – Jeremy's heart kicks up into doubletime and sudden fury rises in him, raced along by Jack's _infuriatingly_ blank face, her blasé shrug as the tase stops and Ryan pants, drooling onto his lap, swallowing a few times before laughing quietly, _madly_.

Jeremy tamps it down when the detective raises a cool eyebrow, clearly expecting him to break and babble but he _won't_.

“I plead the fifth,” he says simply, and sits back in the chair. “I'm not speaking until I see a lawyer.”

Jack snickers and Ryan giggles again, glancing over at him.

“Oh, that's how you want to play it?” The detective asks. “Why, I'm sure we can organise a suitable...arrangement for you, Mr. Dooley.”

“She means jail!” Ryan hollers, and the officer tases him again – this time a large corner of the ceiling blows up and alarms blare as Michael and Geoff drop in amidst dust and plaster, cocking their guns and disabling the officers by shooting their kneecaps out – Michael slams the butt of his shotgun across the detective's face and knocks her out before striding over to Jack.

“Man, thought you'd never get here,” she says calmly as Michael jimmies open the cuffs, rubbing her reddened wrists and slipping the pistol out of Michael's jeans for herself – at the same time Geoff frees Ryan, and when Jack's standing Michael goes to Jeremy.

“You didn't crack, that's good,” he says, and Jeremy casts a worried look over at Ryan, who's half-slumped against Geoff, wiping spit from his mouth and keeping up surprisingly well for someone who just got tased twice.

“Don't worry, he's fine,” Michael says, following Jeremy's gaze. “Happens all the time. Now come on, we've only got about thirty seconds before that door busts in.”

As if on cue, voices rise outside the room and Michael and Geoff usher them all to the ladder now dangling through the hole in the ceiling – Jeremy sighs but climbs up after Jack, and the moment Geoff's feet are on the bottom rung Gavin lifts up and flies away.

It's a bumpy as _fuck_ ride, all of them groaning when they eventually haul themselves into the body of the chopper, collapsing on the floor of it as Geoff closes the hatch.

“Hello and welcome to Fake airlines. This is your captain speaking!” Gavin chirps over the PA, and half of them laugh and the other half groan. “We've got a good tail wind up here, looks to be smooth sailing. Oh, except maybe for the _missiles_!”

Screaming erupts as the chopper pitches sideways, a missile roaring right past them and exploding among clouds, the blast rocking them back the other way and they all scramble to get up so they're not sliding all over the hard metal floor.

“Gavin!” Michael snaps, coughing into his elbow as he sinks into a seat – he grabs the little mic for the intercom and shouts into it, “Gavin, you fuck!”

In response, Gavin just screams again and they dodge a few more missiles, holding tight onto their seats as the chopper spins.

“Okay, okay, we're clear,” Gavin announces a few minutes later, relief clear in his voice. “They've given up on us.”

“You _fuck_!” Michael screams, and gets up to storm into the cockpit – Geoff follows and the sounds of a brief scuffle ensue. Jack gets up and closes the door.

Ryan trudges over to sit down beside Jeremy, stretching his legs out and resting his hands on his chest as he tips his head back and closes his eyes. Jeremy doesn't quite know what to do with his hands, unsure if it's okay to touch yet, so he just keeps them on his thighs even though he desperately wants to touch.

“Are you okay?” Jeremy asks, gesturing to Ryan's shirt where the taser burnt through.

“What? Oh, yeah, it's fine, just stings a bit,” Ryan says. He cracks an eye open and holds a hand out to Jack, beckoning. “Jack, medkit?”

“Please?” She sing-songs, handing it over nonetheless.

“Please and thank you,” Ryan replies with a grin, popping open the kit and taking out a few packets of alcohol wipes and a tube of cream.

Jeremy watches silently while Ryan hikes his shirt up to expose his chest, cleaning the taser wounds before smearing cream on them. He tugs his shirt down and puts the kit on the next seat over, butts his head against Jeremy's before resting his head on Jeremy's shoulder and closing his eyes. Jeremy rests a hand on Ryan's thigh and Ryan covers it with his own.

“Bulldozer?” Jeremy asks a few minutes later, looking at Jack. She shrugs and brings a leg up to rest her knee on it.

“I don't know, I was just goin' along,” she says. “Ryan's the one who said it.” She gestures to Ryan, currently dozing on Jeremy's shoulder, and Ryan hums noncommittally.

“Improv usually works,” he mumbles.

“I feel like someone should have told me how this would work,” Jeremy deadpans. “Y'know, the cackling and the tasing and shit? Fuckin' creepy.”

“That's the point,” Jack replies. “Anyway, smooth recovery, _I plead the fifth_ ,” she teases, grinning at him.

“Hey, I panicked!” Jeremy protests, holding his free hand up in surrender.

“It was good,” Jack says. She grins and rests her head against the window. “Nice fuckin' job down there, Lil J.”

\-- 

Jeremy considers the variety of painkillers on the shelf – debates gelcaps vs. plain pills – and after he's shifted the basket to his other hand for the fifth time he ends up just grabbing a few bulk packs and dropping them in next to the handful of surgical scissors.

He and Michael are doing a full safehouse restock today – Geoff's orders. Once they were in the store, Michael sent him to get basic medkit supplies while he himself wandered off for other things – although he had tasked Jeremy with finding Bengay for Geoff's aching neck.

Jeremy's just double-checking the contents of his basket – bandages, scissors, alcohol, needle, thread – when Michael returns to him, putting his own basket down on the floor between them and grunting out a greeting as he pulls out his phone. He rubs the back of his neck while he brings up a list – Jeremy can't read it from this angle, but Michael's focused intently on it, muttering quietly to himself.

Michael's basket is filled with heavier-duty items, like joint braces and splints, and sitting on top of it all is a paper pharmacy bag. With lack of anything better to do, Jeremy curiously picks up the bag and peers inside, expecting maybe morphine or heavy painkillers, but as he paws through the contents he finds numerous bottles of testosterone – he glances down and spies a pack of disposable needles in Michael's basket, just under the wrist brace.

“That's a lot,” Jeremy comments, folding the bag back down. Michael glances up at him.

“What?” His eyes flick down to the bag in Jeremy's hands. “Oh, that's Ryan's. We put one in every safehouse.” He shrugs. “Just in case we get stuck for a while.”

“Oh,” Jeremy says, feeling a little intrusive all of a sudden.

“Yeah, when, uh – oh, it was before you were with us, yeah - “ Michael shifts on his feet and glances down at his phone before looking back up at Jeremy, “ - this heist went bad and we had to hide and Ryan and I were stuck in the south dock house.”

“The blue, like, fisherman one?”

Michael nods and pockets his phone.

“Yeah. Anyway, he fucked up his leg and we were trapped there for, like, a month. And he didn't have any of his – hormones and shit and we couldn't get any, so. Kinda emotionally fucked him up a little. Ever since that Geoff's made sure we stock all the hideouts with it.”

“Shit, I didn't even know,” Jeremy says, setting the bag back down in Michael's basket.

“Learn somethin' new every day, Lil J,” Michael says with a grin, clapping a hand on Jeremy's shoulder. “Now help me pick out some shit for Gavin.”

Suddenly he picks up his basket and strides down the aisle and Jeremy scrambles to catch up, his basket banging against his knee as he half-jogs to Michael.

“Pick out? What are we picking out?” He asks.

Michael stops in front of the plaster section and grins conspiratorially at Jeremy before pointing to a bright box of Cars-themed Band-Aids.

“Four-for-two deal,” he says, and plucks out the box. “Gav usually needs them more than we do, so. Hand me that Barbie one?”

\-- 

A dinner date turns into a lot more when they accidentally stumble into nightclub row and, well, Jeremy's not saying they may have ended up at a strip club but they've definitely ended up _behind_ one.

Ryan groans gutturally and his fingers flex on Jeremy's head, pressing him in further as he rocks up into his mouth. Jeremy flicks his tongue over the barbell and Ryan spits out a curse, head tipped back against the wall and eyes closed while Jeremy blows him.

His jeans are only pulled down enough for Jeremy to get here, the buckle of his belt bumping against Jeremy's collarbone when he bucks up. Jeremy curls his tongue around Ryan's cock again and sucks noisily, his teeth clicking against warm metal.

“Oh, Jeremy, _fuck_ ,” Ryan moans, shuddering at the slight scrape of Jeremy's teeth. He's all soft and hot against Jeremy's tongue, flushed a dark, attractive pink, and Jeremy closes his eyes to focus on dragging out all the little reactions he can, from the low groans to the twitch of his thighs under Jeremy's palms.

The quiet chant of Jeremy's name is _addictive_ , heady in all the best ways and he swirls his tongue around the wet nub of Ryan's dick to hear it more, Ryan's satisfied groans accompanied with urgent rolls of his hips. Jeremy pulls back for a breather, brushing his lips over where Ryan's swollen and slick while he pants.

Ryan tugs him back in a moment later and Jeremy goes easily, narrowing his tongue to a point and running it up the underside to make Ryan jerk and tremble, fingers tightening on Jeremy's neck. Jeremy squeezes his thighs and works more deliberately to get Ryan off, licking and sucking and finding all the sensitive spots he can while Ryan's groans pitch rough above him.

He's rewarded, a few breathless moments later, by Ryan's ragged moan and the slight buckle of his knees as he comes over Jeremy's mouth and chin, hot and wet - his moan wavers into a surprised whimper when Jeremy dives in to lick it up. Jeremy swallows thickly and rolls his tongue over the piercing, keeps sucking until Ryan's pushing him away. He pulls Ryan's thighs open a little more to clean him up with his tongue, drops a kiss over his cock before settling back on his knees.

Jeremy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as Ryan tugs up his jeans and urges Jeremy to standing with the hand on his neck, dragging him in for a clumsy kiss. A warm hand cups Jeremy's jaw as Ryan's tongue curls into his mouth and a thigh shoves up between Jeremy's legs, giving him something to grind against.

Ryan's hand slips down the back of Jeremy's jeans to his ass, squeezing slowly and grinning at Jeremy's gasp. He uses that hand to guide Jeremy into a rough rhythm, drops his other to knead at Jeremy's dick through his jeans.

Jeremy presses his cheek to Ryan's as Ryan unzips him, spitting crudely into his palm before wrapping thick fingers around Jeremy's cock and stroking. He presses a kiss to Jeremy's jaw and then suddenly sinks to his knees, wasting no time getting his mouth on Jeremy and hollowing out his cheeks to suck sloppily, dragging his tongue over the slit. Jeremy groans and braces a hand against the wall and threads the other in Ryan's hair, shallowly rolling his hips in time with Ryan's bobbing and panting out his name as his toes curl in his boots.

When Jeremy's close, swearing and moaning and tense all over, Ryan pops off and presses a kiss to the spit-slicked head, raking a hand through his hair and clumsily pushing himself back up to standing to kiss Jeremy full-on, muffling his frustrated grunt with his mouth. He resumes his fast stroking and Jeremy breaks the kiss to pant, hips twisting up into Ryan's pattern and his hands fisting Ryan's shirt. Ryan's arm wraps around his shoulders to keep him steady.

The fire door to Jeremy's right abruptly bangs open and footsteps pound out – they stop shortly along with the voices and Jeremy buries his burning face in Ryan's neck as Ryan glares at the people – Jeremy flushes hot all over knowing they've essentially been _caught_ , and the adrenaline push launches him right over the edge and he comes messily over Ryan's fist, embarrassed and hot and desperately wishing he could have waited until the people _left_.

The footsteps hurry back inside and the door slams firmly shut and Jeremy trembles, sure he's blushing straight down to his chest while Ryan finishes him off and drops a kiss to Jeremy's head, panting raggedly into his ear. Jeremy whines in the back of his throat and twitches pathetically in Ryan's fingers.

Soon after Jeremy's settled, Ryan takes his hand away and Jeremy straightens again, tucking himself in while Ryan slumps against the wall. When he glances shyly up, Ryan grins and lifts his hand to lick the come off of it – the image sends a hot shiver through Jeremy.

“Didn't realise you had an exhibitionist thing,” Ryan teases, sucking pointedly on a knuckle and wiping his spit-wet fingers on his shirt.

“What, the blowjob didn't give it away?” Jeremy retorts automatically.

“Mm, 's hot,” Ryan says, pulling Jeremy in with a strong grip on his arms and kissing him. “Should do it more often.”

“You're just shameless, you know that?”

“About you, yeah.”

\-- 

“Hey!” Ryan barks, tossing a shotgun over to Michael – Michael catches it neatly and turns to blast the guy charging him with a knife, downing him in one easy shot and cocking his gun to hit the next one while Ryan snaps in a new ammo clip and fires again, a bright spray of blood painting the wall.

“How's it goin'?” Geoff asks in Jeremy's ear.

“I think we're winning,” Jeremy gasps, pressing down on his bleeding side with a grunt. “Aw, _fuck_ ,” he mutters when he realises the wad of cloth he's holding is completely soaked through.

“We're gonna need the ambulance,” Michael shouts over the cracks of gunfire, him and Ryan moving in a slow circle around Jeremy as they pick off the last of the other gang.

“We've got a chopper right here,” Gavin says, and Jeremy groans at the thought of it. Ryan glances back at him.

“He can't handle that right now,” Michael replies. “Get the ambulance.”

“We're right here - “

“I don't care, Geoff! Get the fucking ambulance!”

“Michael, look, we can airlift him to -

“Ambulance!” Michael insists, and Jeremy groans weakly to indicate his agreement.

“Mi - “

“ _Ambulance_!”

“Okay, okay!” Geoff says, and relays the orders to Jack. “Give us fifteen minutes.”

“Ten,” Ryan snaps.

“All right, ten, Jesus.”

Jeremy's really not hurt _too_ badly – the scariest thing is the bleeding, and that's only because it was a long cut, deep enough for stitches but not deep enough to nick anything important – although he is _incredibly_ dizzy from the pain and he _really_ doesn't like the feel of his own blood seeping between his fingers.

He loses track of time, a little, surrounded by occasional gunshots – or maybe they finally fall silent, he's not sure – and Michael's and Ryan's movements and urgent chatter over the comms – next thing he knows Ryan's slapping his cheek and telling him to _stay awake, stay awake, eyes on me, okay?_ and scooping him up in his arms, grunting with the effort. Jeremy's head lolls against his arm and Ryan looks down again – Jeremy dazedly notices the blood on his cheek is only a few shades darker than the paint.

Jeremy makes another pained noise and his injured side presses up against Ryan's front, jostled painfully with each step and he isn't quite sure anymore why it's important he stays awake but Ryan's repeating it every few seconds so Jeremy tries if only to shut him up.

Suddenly there's noise and sirens and a dangerous screech of tyres and Michael's screaming something while Ryan holds Jeremy tighter and -

The world goes up, and down, and Jeremy only barely registers the slam of the van doors behind them – the world jolts into motion again and Jeremy's so _dizzy_ it hurts, his pulse pounding in time with his bleeding out and everything blurs and swims as he's laid down on a rough cot.

His shirt's torn away. Alcohol stings.

 _Oh my god, he's bleeding_ everywhere _!_

 _I fucking_ told _you we needed the ambulance, Gavin!_

A hand lands on his cheek, slapping a bit roughly and Jeremy forces his eyes open to see Michael's face above him upside down. He lets out a slurred _gah_ sound and Michael pinches his cheek – the twinge of pain hardly compares to the agony blistering down his side.

“Hey, asshole, stay awake,” Michael orders. “Ryan's sewing you up.”

“Eurgh, that's bloody nasty, that is.”

“Then don't fucking look!” Michael says, exasperation tight in his tone. “Jeremy, keep looking at me, okay?”

Michael pinches him again and leans in a little more to pull a series of funny faces – a bubble of laughter rises in Jeremy's chest and all he offers is a wheeze, but Michael smiles at him, sticks his tongue out almost close enough to lick Jeremy's nose.

Jeremy hates the sensation of his skin closing up and the slight pinch of the needle he can feel every second, but he focuses on the twist of Michael's mouth when the van bumps over something and the sound of Gavin falling down on a sharp turn – Ryan yells something and Jack replies and Jeremy starts drifting away again, in no way pleasantly lulled into a doze but rather just pained enough he doesn't really give a shit about the rough ride.

“Stay awake,” someone says, and slaps him again.

“I'm done, I'm done,” Ryan says all in a rush – Jeremy turns into the hand on his cheek and Michael grumbles something but curls his fingers under Jeremy's jaw nonetheless, holding him steady.

“Look at me,” Michael says. Jeremy does. “If we give you painkillers you have to promise not to pass out.”

Jeremy mumbles something garbled and Michael sighs, patting his cheek.

“Give 'em here, Ryan.”

Something goes in his mouth and Jeremy swallows reflexively – someone's hand pets over his throat and helps him swallow the pills, going back to his cheek when he's done that.

“Stay awake,” Michael reminds him, and Jeremy promptly passes out.

\-- 

“Hey, dipshit, I told you to stay awake.”

Jeremy groans and immediately coughs, then falls into a violent coughing fit that makes his side sear with pain. Someone sighs and rolls him a little onto his side and liquid wells up in Jeremy's mouth – he spits automatically into the tissue someone holds out for him and a little tremour of panic runs through him when he sees that it's red.

“Don't worry,” the person says as they ball up the tissue and push Jeremy back onto his back. “'S just a bitten tongue. Managed to do it while you were unconscious.”

Jeremy grunts noncommittally and opens his eyes properly to see Michael above him, his split lip cleaned up and a purpling bruise blossoming over his jaw.

Jeremy tries to ask a question but it comes out as _ahh ooooh?_ and Michael just shakes his head and laughs, patting Jeremy's shoulder. He's in a bed – the guest room at the penthouse, he realises.

“You've been out for just over two hours,” Michael says. “You're good. We fixed you up. And before you try, we’re okay, too.” He hesitates for a moment before glancing back where Jeremy can't see, his mouth twisting in concern.

Jeremy _huh_ s questioningly and Michael urges him up a little so he can see Ryan, slumped in a chair in the corner and sleeping, his head propped up with a hand and his chest rising and falling with his soft breathing. There's a butterfly bandage over his cheek, gauze wrapped around his knuckles. His clothes are clean.

“He's been here for a bit,” Michael says, plumping up a few pillows and shoving them behind Jeremy so he's at a slight angle. “Poor fuck passed out right in the chair.” He finishes with rearranging Jeremy and crosses his arms, glancing back at Ryan again.

“There's dinner for you if you want it,” Michael says, turning his gaze again to Jeremy. “I'll get water.”

With that he leaves the room - a few moments later the sound of socked feet on hardwood approaches the door and Gavin steps in, grinning wide when he sees Jeremy.

“Lil J!” He says, bounding up to Jeremy's side. “How're you feeling?”

 _Terrible_ , Jeremy wants to say. Instead he gets _errgh_. Gavin laughs and pulls up a chair from the wall, plopping down in it to Jeremy's right and rest his arms on Jeremy's bed.

“Hey, I got – Gav, I told you to leave him alone!” Michael hisses when he walks in, holding a tray with two plates and balancing multiple glasses of water on it while he glares at Gavin.

“I'm not botherin' him,” Gavin protests with an easy smile, looking at Jeremy. “Am I, Lil J?”

Jeremy lifts his eyes to Michael's and offers a faint shrug with one shoulder. Michael sighs and rolls his eyes before walking over to the chair on Jeremy's left, setting the tray down on the free space on the bed and handing him a glass.

Gavin reaches over to try and pluck a piece of bread from the plate and Michael slaps his wrist away, breaks into fond laughter when Gavin tries again – Jeremy smiles and drinks and Michael and Gavin fall into friendly banter while Jeremy slowly works his way through dinner, pushing his leftovers to Michael and poking at Gavin’s hand to annoy him.

\-- 

The next time Jeremy wakes up, Geoff's in the chair, reading a book with his feet propped up lazily on Jeremy's bed, and there's early, _early_ morning light streaming through the curtains. Jeremy grunts and Geoff smiles at him.

“Need anything?” He asks, and Jeremy shakes his head. He'd woken up a few hours ago because he needed to piss, and Michael helped him with that. His throat's a little dry, but he wants to see if he'll stay awake this time or if he'll just pass out again. Geoff hums in acknowledgement and turns back to his book.

Jeremy wiggles all the parts of him that he can, sighing as feeling rushes back to his curled toes, his stiff fingers. His shoulders ache and the agony in his side is dulled by painkillers, thick bandage swathed over the wound under his shirt and his ribs taped up.

“Geoff, breakfast's ready,” someone says through a yawn as they open the door – it's Ryan, two mugs of steaming coffee in his hands and his hair still mussed up from sleep. When he sees Jeremy's awake he perks up a little, a relieved smile breaking out across his face as Geoff stands up.

Ryan hands Geoff a mug and Geoff thanks him with a pat to his shoulder before slipping out behind him, his footsteps fading away into the dawn quiet of the penthouse. Ryan comes over to Jeremy's side and sets the mug down on the bedside table before he drags the chair closer to sit down.

“Ow,” Jeremy whispers dramatically. Ryan laughs and carefully threads his fingers through Jeremy's, grinning a little goofily.

“You think you can stay awake this time?” He teases.

“Fuck you,” Jeremy rasps. Ryan leans in to press a kiss to Jeremy's knuckles, chuckles when Jeremy flexes his fingers to try and slap Ryan's cheek.

“Hm, you stink,” Ryan murmurs, brushing another soft kiss over Jeremy's fingers. Jeremy can't help his little wheezing, _painful_ laugh, and Ryan gently squeezes his hand with a pleased huff.

“Love you,” Ryan says. Jeremy sighs loudly and Ryan laughs again, a relieved, happy noise that makes Jeremy smile.

“Yeah, love you, too,” Jeremy says quietly.

\-- 

“He's gonna miss!” Geoff crows, handing the binoculars to Jeremy and clapping as he laughs – Jeremy lifts the binoculars to focus on the bright rainbow spot in the distance – Gavin's parachute, drifting down and missing the ship by a fucking mile. Michael's jet circles around again and Jack's laughter erupts through the phone laying between Geoff and Jeremy when she sees Gavin in front of her boat instead of _on_ it.

Gavin spirals down to the ocean and underwater – when he comes back up and starts swimming to shore, Jeremy can only imagine the raucous laughter from inside the cockpit, the bickering going on between Michael's and Gavin's comms as Gavin hauls himself onto the sand. Jack's broken into wheezing over the phone, giggling madly to herself at nearly the same pitch Geoff is – Geoff, who is currently taking the binoculars again to peer at Gavin.

Jeremy joins in on Geoff's laughter, loudly cracking up all over again when Michael's jet comes around once more and Ryan jumps from it, missing the boat by just as much as Gavin and Jack literally cannot form words anymore, gone silent with laughter, and Geoff's fucking _losing_ it, cackling when Ryan crashes into the water.

Geoff puts the binoculars down while Michael and Gavin and Ryan go about setting up again – Jack talks to them on the comms and Geoff lowers the volume on the phone as he passes a can to Jeremy, who can't stop snickering enough to actually pop it open.

“Oh man, this is the stupidest thing we've ever done,” Geoff breathes, giggling again as he clinks his Coke with Jeremy's. “Oh, I love you guys.”

“Wait until Michael wrecks your jet,” Jeremy says through his laughter – his side hurts from it, but when he pulls his shirt up to check there's no new blood on the bandage. “Or when Ryan tries to blow the boat up.”

“Ah, that's Jack's problem,” Geoff sighs. They're sitting on the edge of the penthouse roof, their legs dangling off the edge and their sodas perilously close to it. Jeremy is resolutely not looking down.

It's only been a few days since he's been up and moving, and if he were able to he'd probably be one of the crazy ones jumping out of high speed jets and trying to land on a boat, but instead Geoff stayed back with him and helped him up to the roof to watch.

Their attention is snapped back by Michael’s barrel roll, and Jeremy's quickly relieved that he's not in there with Gavin and Ryan right now – accepts the binoculars to watch as Gavin jumps from the plane.

Gavin misses.

\-- 

On the morning of Jeremy's birthday, Ryan rolls over in bed and lays a small, silver key on his chest. Jeremy frowns at it and Ryan presses up to his side again, his chin against Jeremy's shoulder and his breath puffing out hot over his neck.

“What's this?” Jeremy asks, picking up the key and inspecting it in the sunshine pouring in through the window.

“Your key,” Ryan says, already halfway back to sleep.

“Huh?”

“You practically live here anyway,” Ryan mumbles, and sighs as he curls an arm around Jeremy's waist.

Jeremy's dumbstruck for a solid five seconds before he manages to process that Ryan basically just asked him to _move in_ – in the most roundabout, casual way he _could_ _._

Jeremy slowly rubs the shiny key with his thumb, a smile growing on his face.

“Shit, Ry,” he whispers, soft and fond and adoring. 

Ryan snores. 


End file.
